


Chained

by Hesesols



Series: Eclipse [27]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, BAMF Kuchiki Rukia, Dark Kurosaki Ichigo, Dubious Consent, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, I just have to stress that this fic is dark, Inspired by the fanart that 3 posted for Quincy Ichigo, Quincy Kurosaki Ichigo, You Have Been Warned, smut galore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:42:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29266686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hesesols/pseuds/Hesesols
Summary: Seireitei has fallen.The pre-emptive strike of the Wandenreich takes a devastating toll on the Gotei 13. Vice-captain Kuchiki Rukia leads what remains of her division through the fallen city in hopes of reaching the Kuchiki senkaimon so the Shinigami can regroup in the Human World. But even the simplest of plans can go awry and when she is captured by a flame-haired Sternritter, the three realms will never be the same again.
Relationships: Kuchiki Rukia/Kurosaki Ichigo, Sode no Shirayuki/Zangetsu
Series: Eclipse [27]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1757437
Comments: 50
Kudos: 81
Collections: International Ichiruki Hentai Fest





	1. Chained Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [verothelilsparkleghost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/verothelilsparkleghost/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Quincy Kurosaki Ichigo](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/756072) by 3. 



.

.

Seireitei has fallen.

Debris is littered everywhere, blood splatters and the bodies of their fallen comrades are among them as fire burns, consuming all in its path and the once gleaming city is now nothing more than a smattering of broken concrete and splintered towers on fire, shrouded in black smoke so thick that eyes squint to make sense of the time of the day. Night and day blurs into one, impossible to tell apart as thick plumes darken the skies. This is a broken city brought to its knees by its otherworldly invaders while its surviving inhabitants struggle to make use of the terrain to survive and possibly fight another day.

Rukia can do nothing but swallow the pain and push past it as she leads what remains of her division past the blood-stained battlegrounds. The wound on her arm stings and her body throbs from the scores of cuts and bruises she collected from her earlier fights but she ignores them as best as she can. She is lucky enough as it is being alive at this very moment.

Keeping their reiatsu hidden, she leads her division as they shunpo under the cover of darkness and smoke, eager to escape the horrors of war and their would-be attackers. She eyes the dark fumes rising from the still burning buildings, crumpled bodies with missing limbs and heads turned at inhuman angles and forces herself to look away, trying to ignore the destruction that surrounds them. They don't even have the time to bury their dead. Shame and guilt gnaw at her yet she has no choice but to bury it deep down inside of her. She swears to avenge them somehow, to honour their sacrifices, so they will know that they have not given their lives in vain, but first, she must survive.

It has been a long and bloody night, filled with agonizing screams- eerie swan songs that echo in their ears and stab at their hearts, a mixture of blood, sweat and tears that soak through their black shihakushou, staining their skins and deeper still until the guilt festers and makes a home in their bones. Spirits beaten and battered by their defeat, their bodies are a patchwork of still-healing scars, bruises and bleeding fresh wounds. Their fingernails are caked in grime and dried blood; pale faces grim with resignation and loss. Memories of their fallen comrades at their final moments, being cut down like they were no better than stalks of weeds, haunts them just as badly as the choking fear of facing up against enemies they have no chance of winning. The combined impact of psychological trauma, an overwhelming swirl of grief and anger, physical exhaustion, and the drain on their reiatsu is crippling. Rukia suspects that many of her division members are at their breaking point.

But from the East, a sliver of light is breaking through. It's always darkest before dawn. Rukia prays that they will all live long enough to see the morning light and with that thought in mind, pushes herself to go faster, urging her squad members to keep up. If this is the first wave, she shudders to think what the second invasion would entail. Seireitei has nothing more to give and the Gotei 13 are still scrambling in the aftermath, trying to make sense of their attackers and locate those among them who have survived the first attack and can still fight.

She clenches her fists tightly at the hilt of Shirayuki. They have been caught unprepared by the Wandenreich. No sane Shinigami would have ever thought it possible that the Quincy's Shadow Realm- a mythical city encased in ice has always existed in a dimension within the Seireitei. Their sworn enemies and the greatest threat to the survival of the three realms have been hidden in plain sight all this time- a ticking time bomb that blew up in their face spectacularly just when they least expected it to. The Wandenreich— rumours of a Quincy King are the stuff of legend so old Rukia doubts anyone among the ranks of the Captains and Vice Captains will even remember or even be privy to the information unless one was a member of the illustrious Kuchiki clan.

The Custodians of Seireitei bore their mantle well what with their zealousness in hoarding and maintaining historical records of the realm since its creation but all that knowledge is meaningless unless the information on how to defeat the Wandenreich is somehow concealed underneath its many-layered scrolls being kept in the Kuchiki library.

The first order of business is to find her brother. Kinship aside, Rukia is confident that her brother would know more about the matter, might even be able to shed light on some of their attackers and their weaknesses but first—

Her senses keen. She hears it before she actually sees the whizzing brilliant blue bolt of reiryouku flying towards her.

"Watch out!"

Rukia reacts by instinct, parrying the arrow with Shirayuki to bat it away but a barrage of it soon follows.

She squints and from the distance she sees a man in white. A Sternritter, she thinks, with hair the colour of flames and the sudden realization causes dread to sink like lead in the pit of her stomach. She recognizes him if nothing else by the colour of his bright hair. She has seen someone with the same shade of hair in the attack against Yamamoto-Soutaichou.

The reminder of her fallen leader- weakened and then murdered in cold blood, body obliterated with nothing left behind but a scorched and broken Ryuujin Jakka, makes her blood boil. They are nothing but cowards who have to resort to underhanded tactics to win the war!

"Run!" she yells at her division members.

They have to survive. She won't allow them to squander their lives here. She has seen too many deaths today and she refuses to let her squad mates be yet another pointless casualty. They are no match for the Quincy and they will die here unless she intervenes. The Human World is their only hope now. It will if nothing else give the surviving Shinigamis a short reprieve, a chance to regroup and mobilize what remains of their attack force before the Wandenreich mounts their second attack.

"Kuchiki Fuku-taichou! No! We can't leav—"

"Are you deaf or do you have a death wish? I can still have you drawn and quartered for insubordination, Yuki! Now don't make me repeat myself! Stick to the plan! I will cover for you guys. Hurry!"

They have been making their way to the Kuchiki Manor with her leading them through the maze of back alleys and narrow cobblestoned paths to evade their attackers. It seems that their good luck has finally run out but no matter- they are close enough that they can still make it to the Kuchiki senkaimon if they shunpo fast enough and from there, Urahara Kisuke can hold the door open long enough and usher them into the Human World. Rukia's grip on Shirayuki tightens.

It is the only way.

"But—"

Rukia fixes him with a glare so cold it would have frozen ice.

"That is an order! Do not disappoint me. Now go! I will be right behind you."

The lie slips off her tongue easily. Her low voice cuts at them, rousing them from their stupor as her subordinates slowly re-sheath their blades. There is a grim sort of resignation that settles on their faces, the way their eyes harden as they turn their backs on her. They have no choice. The difference in power between them is too great. Resistance is futile and would only insult the sacrifice that their vice-captain is making for them. Yuki wipes at the fat tears that welled in the corner of his eyes but he does not look back as he shunpoes away.

Good, Rukia thinks as her violet eyes zeroes in on the figure dressed in all-white standing on the broken pillar. It seems fitting that she honour the Captain Commander's death with the death of one of his attackers and if failing that, she supposes dying in battle isn't a terrible way to go.

The Sternritter leaps off his perch, darting towards the direction of the fleeing survivors but Rukia is there waiting. She grits her teeth, fending off his attacks and deterring him from pursuit with her kido attacks.

.

"Shakkahou!"

The fireball sends the building he was on moments before careening and the shockwave as the building toppled could be felt from miles away. When the dust settles, he emerges unscathed, not a spot of dust or a drop of blood on him. A dangerous zing of ozone and electricity fills the air. Underneath his white hooded cloak lined with black sable, he wears the same nondescript uniform as all Sternritters- white double-breasted trench coat, white trousers and trench boots. There is a faint shine from the row of brass buttons down his front and the golden belt buckle on his black belt.

The bow he holds in front of him is nearly as tall as he is and shimmers in vibrant hues of electric blue. The light reflected off his reishi-infused weapons casts a glow to his already striking features, accentuating the sharpness of his jawline, the contours of his cheekbones as they face off against each other. He is younger than she envisioned him to be, lean and tall. A shock of orange hair trails long and unruly, sideburns and mullet lingering just a little past his nape. It is distractingly loud and twice as attention-grabbing as a neon sign. He is nowhere as regal-looking or handsome as Nii-sama is, but Rukia would begrudgingly admit that there is an air to him to makes him almost alluring were it not for the cruel gleam in his eyes.

Applause rings slow and mocking from him as his lips curl into a taunting smirk. The smugness of it is grates on her nerves as his golden amber eyes sear into hers.

"You have my attention, little Shinigami."

Rukia readies the blade in her hands, "I will wipe that smirk off your face, Sternritter."

He scoffs as the bow in his hands gleams bright and blue, "Bold words for a midget."

"You know what they say: the bigger they are, the harder they fall."

She launches herself at him, not giving him the room to breathe or think as she engages him in battle. The Quincy fights with a bow and arrow- long-ranged weapons. If she can keep her attacks close-ranged and make sure he doesn't have time to react with his Heilig Pfeil, or better yet if she can freeze his weapon and shatter it, she might just make it by the skin of her teeth, buying herself time to escape into the Human World.

"Mai, Sode no Shirayuki!"

Shirayuki feels the resolve in her and responds accordingly, sending out a rush of cold air as it transforms. The pure white blade is peerless in her hands, from the tip of the blade to the white ribbon that trails from the pommel. Icy sheets form at the ground beneath their feet but the Sternritter only lets out a low whistle as he nimbly avoids the creeping ice.

"I hope this isn't all your attack is limited to," he taunts, "Your shikai's release is pretty to look at- I'll admit that much, but this battle between us might end quicker than I expected."

Rukia scowls, resisting the urge to pummel him with her bare fists. His underestimation of both her and Shirayuki will be his undoing. She moves into her battle stance almost immediately.

"Tsugi no Mai, Hakuren!"

There is a blast of cold air that erupts, directed at the Sternritter. The attack leaves the ground and the fallen debris encased in ice. She scowls as he dodges, gracefully landing on his feet some distance away. He holds out his bow, ready to take aim but Rukia is faster.

"Some no Mai, Tsukishiro!"

The Sternritter leaps to the air, avoiding her attack. Rukia relishes the look of surprise on his face as a beam of light encircles everything within its influence. Ice crystals join, forming an ice pillar that extends itself, soaring upwards and he dodges a bit too slow at the last minute. His arm and weapon is caught in the ice, suspending him in mid-air. Noticing the way he is leaving himself open for an attack, he wrenches his arm free with a sudden burst of reiryouku, abandoning his bow while he leaps to a higher perch for safety.

It proves to be the right decision to make as the ice solidifies, entrapping all within its grasp. There is a loud crack as the ice shatters and with it, the reishi-created bow is destroyed.

Rukia emerges victorious, but doesn't stay long enough to gloat. She starts to shunpo the minute the bow shatters. Her priority right now is to re-join her team and get to the Human World as soon as possible. A niggling worry settles at the back of her mind, telling her that it is all a bit too easy, giving her all the more reason to be wary of the Sternritter she left behind. She is not so arrogant of Shirayuki's attack to think that a man who fought against the Captain Commander and lived to tell the tale would be brought to his knees by her shikai.

She turns at the next corner, coming to a screeching halt as she brings up Shirayuki to block against a blade swinging down at her. Sparks fly as the two blades meet. The clang of steel against steel echoes loudly throughout the empty streets and Rukia grits her teeth as she is forced back by the force of the parry.

The Sternritter is relentless. She might have rid him of his bow but that by no means makes him any less dangerous. Her attacker grins down at her and her eyes widen in disbelief.

"How—"

The katana he wields is sleek and pitch black from the naked blade to the hilt. Links of black chain clink and clatter noisily as they descend from the pommel, snaking around his sword arm as though they were writhing coils with a mind of their own. There is no reishi seeping from it, no strange zing of metallic blue that sets her teeth on the edge. There is instead a strange sentient hum that filled her ears moments ago when they crossed blades, Shirayuki's shrill scream in her ears as the zanpakutou warns her about the incoming attack. The Quincy wields the katana like a zanpakutou and the implication horrifies her. These Quincy and Sternritters are no better than common thieves who would steal and rob the living and corpses alike. Nothing is sacred to them and it seems even a zanpakutou- a Shinigami's soul- is not spared from their pillage.

"What's the hurry, little Shinigami? We're only just getting started—" he chuckles- dark and throaty while pointing his blade at her—"my name is Kurosaki Ichigo. You should be honoured that—"

Rukia does not give him a chance to finish the sentence. Her anger burns too hot and Shirayuki's fury roars in time to her own. If looks could kill- she strikes first, leaping at him with a scream that speaks of her anguish and bitterness, "You coward! Who did you steal this from?"

Ichigo scowls. The accusation seems to infuriate him and he neatly sidesteps her first attack, telling her rather tersely, "I wield nothing that doesn't already belong to me. Zangetsu is mine!"

"You lie!"

Quincy do not have zanpakutous. No Shinigami will willingly side with Yhwach and his Wandenreich. The conclusion is simple: he must have stolen it from a Shinigami and she tells him as much. On her pride as a Shinigami, she will defeat him or die trying.

A well-aimed fireball singes the hem of his cloak, making him hiss. Rukia makes use of the momentary distraction to draw first blood, leaving a shallow cut on his other arm. The sudden bloom of red on his white coat earns her a glare but Rukia gives him a triumphant smirk in return.

She is cautious enough to not let the small victory go to her head. She circles him, waiting for the next opening, but Ichigo surprises her with his speed, sneaking up on her so quickly that she does not even have time to dodge his attack.

Rukia's block is a second too late and he slices her front open. She somersaults away, reopening some of her earlier wounds in her eagerness to put some distance between them. She expects a gush of blood, white-hot pain from the new cut, instead there is a sound of fabric ripping- the sound of simple cotton giving way under the sharp blade.

Her face grows hot and she can feel rage flooding her veins. Her chest bindings, she realizes with a horror have been cut into distinct halves and the front of her robes is rendered beyond salvageable. There is an indecent amount of skin on display through the gap, giving him an unfettered view from the slight jut of her collar bones right down to her navel, the swell of her breasts clearly visible through it.

She glares at him, more so when she spots the sly grin on his face and his stare on her exposed cleavage. She swears, hastily holding the front of her shihakusho shut with one hand, and Shirayuki in the other.

That pervert! The cut is too precise to have been an accident.

But Ichigo doesn't give her a chance to dwell on the state of her clothes. Black chains snake at both of her wrists faster than she can blink. The cold bite of metal against her skin makes her hiss as it coils. Her eyes flit to his approaching figure, only to note with surprise that his katana is gone, but the chains on his gloved hand are still writhing with a blue-tinged glow. She pulls hard at them, trying to free herself, but the outcome to the tug of war between them is laughably predictable. Ichigo is much stronger than she is. With a hard pull from him, she loses her balance, dropping Shirayuki.

The tip of her nose collides painfully against his broad chest. His scent- a strange mixture of light perspiration, smoke and leather musk hits her. She opens her mouth, the incantation for a destructive kido sitting just at the tip of her tongue but he disarms her just as easily. A hand at the base of her jaw squeezes at her cheeks, making it hard to speak. He tilts her chin up, forcing her gaze upwards to meet his amused smirk.

Shackles, she thinks. The chains that are wrapped around her wrists are her shackles, binding her to him. More than fear, it is anger and indignation that grips her as he leans in, the same insolent smirk still curled at his lips. She wants nothing more than to slap it off his _stupid_ face!

"You amuse me, little Shinigami. What's your name?"

She bristles, "Y-You have n-no right to k-know my name, S-Sternritter."

Kuchikis are not to be made a fool of!

Kuchiki Rukia is not to be trifled with. She is a Shinigami and she will die with her head held high. She will never surrender her comrades' secrets even under the pain of torture and death. Rukia does not fear death. Death means being reunited with Kaien-dono and Miyako-dono, being in the same circle of rebirth and death as so many of her comrade-in-arms.

She welcomes it, in fact if it means that through her, the others will have a fighting chance to win. Kiyone and Sentarou are with Ukitake. They are safe. Her captain is safe and she tells herself that it is all that matters. The key to the survival of the Shinigamis- the continued existence of the three realms and all who reside within them are hinged upon the survival of her captain and that thought alone sustains her.

With that, she grits her teeth hard and spits at him- every bit as feral and savage as the Rukongai brat she once was. She balls her fists at the front of his impeccable white uniform, wrinkling the material as she shoots him a glare so sharp, a weaker man would have quailed.

But Ichigo's response to that is a mere indulgent smirk. His grip leaves her jaw and she finds her voice easily, suddenly able to speak properly again.

"If you want to kill me, do it now. I will not beg," she tells him.

Ichigo snorts as his hand trails low. Rukia tries hard to keep still and her breathing even, suddenly acutely aware that the front of her robes is torn and she is near naked underneath it. His gaze sears into her, making her gulp as he pushes her hands away from shielding at her front, humming in approval as the material gaps and parts, leaving behind only unmarked skin- pale and his for the taking. His touch burns as he begins his languid exploration on her body. It skims and glides at her exposed throat, pressing down to feel her erratic pulse by the side of her neck before tracing at the outline of her collar bones, and then lower still as it travels down her sides. Goosebumps rise from where his touch lingers, making her shudder as his hand trails at the dip of her waist before grabbing at the fullness of her hips, and then gliding back up again to curve at the bottom of her breasts.

His palm brushes against her nipples too purposefully to be an accident. The hitch in her breath is sharp and telling. Molten eyes darken at the sound and he shamelessly slips his hand through the torn folds to cup at her breast, tweaking and tugging at her nipple until it pebbles under his touch. Rukia clamps her lips shut, determined not to make herself any more of an embarrassment. At length, his hand settles at the small of her back, dangerously close to her ass.

Rukia huffs. If he is going to kill her, the least he could do is make it a quick end for her. Is he expecting her to cry and beg for her life? She'd be damned if she shows any weakness in front of him. "W-What are you waiting for? An invitation?"

"Well, don't mind if I do."

She gives a sharp cry, unintentionally pressing more of herself to his front when he gives an experimental squeeze at her ass. She glares at him, but her captor is unrepentant by the slightest.

"S-Stop that, you p-pervert! T-That's not what I mean!"

Ichigo flashes her a smile, canines showing, reminding her of a stalking beast in the forest- dangerous and hungry as it circles at its prey. A predatory gleam enters his eyes as he tugs her closer still, close enough that she is sure he can hear how fast her heart is beating against her chest. She squirms, trying to get him to loosen his hold but the chains hold fast, keeping her captive.

Hot breath fans her face as his lips dip low to hover at her ears, whispering, "Are you sure you want to do that, Shinigami?"

There is something hard poking at her _down there_ and she stills immediately. Rukia's mouth runs dry, face colouring as she realizes how his body is reacting to her squirming. She has no intention of feeding the delusions or the fantasies of this perverted Sternritter. The Kuchiki in her is scandalised.

She tries hard to keep the tremor out of her voice as she grouses at him, "Either kill me now or let me go, I will not be used for your _sick_ amusement, Sternritter."

Ichigo tuts, "I am sure I told you already, Shinigami. My name is Ichigo, unless you would rather call me 'Master'."

"In your dreams!"

"That's the spirit, Shinigami. I like your fire and your fighting spirit is commendable to say the least," he says. Ichigo brings his hand to cup at her jaw again, brushing the rough pad of his thumb against her lips while he hoists her into his arms. Rukia is aghast at the manhandling but squirming she learned, does her no favours either.

"I think I'll enjoy keeping you around as my pet."

Rukia's face blanches at that and she reacts instinctively, attacking with whatever she has at hand. She sinks her teeth into him, biting him at the side of his neck left uncovered by the collar. He grunts in surprise at the suddenness of her actions but his grip on her does not slacken. She is forced to give up on her endeavour, nursing her wounded pride and jaw as it becomes apparent that Ichigo is not the slightest bit affected by the attack.

The man truly is thick-skinned. She failed to make him bleed. At best her bite leaves only a ring of teeth mark, puckering the skin on his throat and leaving it red and worried. Ichigo laughs, blithely teasing, "That didn't even hurt. Are you done? Didn't take you to be the possessive sort, Shinigami, but it seems that you settle into your new role well."

"L-Let go of me!"

He is toying with her. Her mind whirls in panic. Rukia has been prepared for death, but not the humiliation of being kept as a prisoner of war. She refuses to be kept as a _… pet!_ The word fills her with disgust and unsavoury thoughts of what this _depraved_ man called Ichigo would do to her.

The expression on Ichigo's face turns thoughtful as he ponders at her request.

"Maybe I will consider it if you tell me your name?"

She gulps, hesitating. The Sternritter is insufferable and a twisted pervert. Would he even let her go if she tells him?

Ichigo shrugs at the lengthy pause, sighing as he tells her, "Suit yourself, Shinigami but you do have a pretty, white katana. Should I add that to my collection too?"

Rukia's eyes widen at the sight of him bending over to pick up her fallen sword. Shirayuki is hers! Her zanpakutou is off-limits, especially to this Sternritter. The words tumble out of her in a rush.

"K-Kuchiki Rukia. M-My name is Kuchiki R-Rukia."

" _Ah_ —" Ichigo stills. The smirk on his smile softens infinitesimally— "so it's _Ru-ki-a_ , is it?"

Rukia grimaces, hating the smug tone in his voice but begrudgingly nods. She watches as Ichigo experiments with the sound of her name. It rolls off his tongue with ease in three distinct syllables that somehow sounds far more intimate than it has any right to be.

She chides herself. It is only a name. He can say it a hundred or a million times, butcher it however he wants to; as long as he leaves Shirayuki alone.

"Relax. I have no intention of stealing your zanpakutou. I told you I don't take what that doesn't already belong to me."

His words cause her to heave a sigh of relief. Shirayuki is still hers- for now. She licks her dry lips, deciding to push her luck. "I did as you asked. Will you let me go?"

He snorts, "Tell me, _Rukia._ Why should I?"

Rukia stiffens, looking up at him with guileless violet eyes. At the sight of the smirk he gives her, the way his grip on her tightens at the waist, she knows she was right all along. Ichigo tricked her. He has no intention of ever letting her go!

.

_"You bastard!"_

.

Ichigo guffaws, easily throwing her over his shoulders as though she is feather-light. His gloved hand grips at the back of her knees to still her vicious kicks as the chains limit the movements of her fists. She struggles against his hold, wriggling and kicking, clawing at his back until she feels his hand swatting lightly at her ass.

Rukia stills. Her face burns at the humiliation. How dare that Sternritter _touch_ her like that!

"Behave."

The silence from Shirayuki is deafening as the Sternritter picks up the fallen sword with his free hand. The blade has returned to its sealed state and his large hand easily wraps itself around it. It is a masterful and effective threat. She would behave herself and cease her struggling or it would be Shirayuki paying the price for her disobedience. Both blade and master offer little to no resistance as Ichigo's grip tightens.

It is the start of a new day as dawn breaks. Colourful clouds in hues of scarlet, violet and gold shrouds the morning sky but the sight of them does nothing for Rukia. The new dawn gives no sign of the reprieve that she hoped for. She bites her lips so hard she tasted blood but if it's one thing that the Kuchiki household taught her well it was to pick your battles wisely.

Determination hardens like flint in her eyes. Surviving is the only option left. The fighter in her knows that as long as she has Shirayuki they will both live to fight another day. Whatever humiliation she is forced to bear, she will bear it through gritted teeth to spite and out-live her captor. Her anger is muted but burns molten all the same as she seethes; the look in her eyes promising bloody vengeance. She will have the last laugh!

Ichigo of course, is blissfully oblivious to her death glares. He stands tall, basking under the bright light with her in tow as the morning sun gilds them in hues of gold and bronze. A cool breeze teases at their hair and the hem of their clothes.

Rukia shivers at the morning chill. Her torn clothing offers her neither comfort nor protection against the elements and she unwittingly huddles closer towards her captor for warmth. Ichigo chuckles in response. His voice is dark and husky, sending chills down her spine at his possessive streak as he carries her off to the gleaming city in the sky.

"You are mine, Rukia."

.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In true **'it's never too late for IR smut'** spirit, here is my belated entry for day 3 of IIHWE: Playthings.
> 
> xD Be warned. This fic is dark and there is an E-rated Spotify playlist for it. [**Chained Playlist**](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6Xk12u8Ze2ibtA6NGsnkmo)
> 
> Song inspo: Chained Up (VIXX)


	2. Closer

.

.

Rukia realizes somewhat belatedly that the fur-lined hoods, thick trench coats and winter boots are not just a stylistic choice or a matter of aesthetics for the Sternritters. The Wandenreich city is freezing and heavily glazed under a layer of ice so thick that she wonders if it would ever melt in the hottest of summer months. Her breaths come out in puffs of white smoke and her teeth chatter. Her wrists chafe against the cold metal that binds her to Ichigo and in the cold; she swears she can barely feel her fingers. The tremor in her body is unmistakable the further they wander into the city.

Ichigo seems to take note of that, coming to a stop once they enter the frozen city. Setting her on her feet, he eyes her shivering body with a frown, scowling when he realizes that blood is seeping from some of her wounds. In the heat of the battle, he has not noticed them but it is clear to him now that his little Shinigami was involved in other skirmishes and won before she faced off against him. He respects strength and Rukia, despite her apple cheeks and petite stature, has showed him that she is anything but helpless on the battlefield.

At the brush of his finger against the wound on her arm, she winces, jumping in surprise, hissing at the sting while glaring at him. She reminds him of a stray cat like that, mean and feral with her back arched and fur standing at her encounter with a human for the first time. With time and the right touch, she can be tamed and taught to appreciate his touch. He doesn't resist the urge to tease as he slips off his fur-lined cloak and drapes it over her instead.

"You Shinigamis are more delicate than I realized."

Rukia doesn't retort. She stands still and heaves a sigh of contentment as he fastens the clasp of the cloak, letting the residual heat from his body warmth wash over her. The calf-length cloak is three sizes too big for her and sweeps at the ground from where she stands.

"Aren't you going to try and make a run for it?" he asks, cocking an eyebrow at her.

A red flush seeps into her cheeks and she tells him hotly, "I am not an _idiot!_ I am injured and it's freezing here. Even if I were to run, you'd just end up catching me again."

The cold is a good deterrent. She is not dressed for her surroundings. It would be suicidal for her to run away from her captor in this state. Her toes are so numb she doesn't think she would get far. The outcome would be as she has imagined and this time Ichigo might not be in as charitable a mood. Besides, Rukia casts a longing look at the katana in his hand and frowns- he is holding Shirayuki captive and she does not have it in her to leave a piece of her soul behind.

"You are a smart little thing, aren't you?"

Rukia scowls at his condescending tone but Ichigo merely laughs, thinking that she looks too adorable for words with her puffed up cheeks and tiny figure all swaddled up in his clothes. He quickly takes her back into his arms, noting the lack of resistance with an amused smirk. She is still much too cold for her liking and readily burrows herself deeper into his arms in search of warmth, curling into a ball as she tucks her head into the crook in his shoulders- meek and pliable, her claws sheathed for now.

He grins, "Hang in there. We're not too far from Silbern now. Let's take a nice hot bath together once we're there. How does that sound?"

Rukia has a retort sitting just at the tip of her tongue. It is acerbic and bitter; something along the lines of 'in your dreams!' and 'I hope you drown in it!', but Ichigo radiates heat. He is as warm as a furnace in the frigid cold. His body warmth surrounds her, his scent blanketing her as he cradles her against his chest.

The adrenaline from earlier is wearing off. She is weak and tired from the cold and from the energy exhausted during the fights and constant running. Her eyelids droop; heavy with sleep and her limbs feel like lead. Lulled by the sound of his steady heartbeat, she finally allows herself to succumb to exhaustion and nods off.

.

A soft nudge at her cheeks rouses her. When she comes to, it is Ichigo's face that looms in front of her. He is close enough for her to see the amber flecks in his eyes. The tip of his nose is cold as he nuzzles at her and she is quietly struck dumb at the soft curve of his lips under the natural light, the tenderness in his voice that she is sure she is imagining due to sleep deprivation.

Rukia blinks blearily at her surroundings, wincing at how it's suddenly brighter as she raises her head up weakly. She hates him for how well-rested and unaffected he looks despite the cold.

"Where are we?"

Ichigo's answer is smug and not without pride as he adjusts his grip on her, allowing her to take in the full majesty of the tiered building- bleach-white and covered in sheets of ice. The ice-encrusted citadel glimmers in the light as sunlight reflects off the many panels of fractal ice crystals. Ice is as beautiful as it is unforgiving. As an ice-type zanpakutou wielder, Rukia knows this better than anyone else but Silbern is a law unto itself. It seems to personify the very nature of the element: beautiful from afar but upon closer inspection, nothing but a bed of deadly jagged stalagmites. Ice seeps warmth. It is cruel and under its glacial surfaces, nothing grows.

The two tusk-shaped structures that frame the citadel arch towards each other with their tips almost touching, eerily reminding Rukia of a demon's curving horns; the large, rectangular tower with a cross on each side rising up behind it, like a giant headstone overlooking them all. There is a foreboding feel to the place that even birds fear to linger or trill. So, this is the base of operations for Yhwach and his Sternritters. It is almost fitting, she thinks. The Wandenreich city is nothing but a frozen and barren wasteland, and their crowning jewel- this _monster_ that Ichigo is so proud of—

"This is Silbern. We're home."

— feels like mausoleum.

"What do you think?"

Rukia gulps at the expectant look on Ichigo's face but her reply is interrupted by the sudden appearance of a trio heading out from the citadel as they are going in. They are garbed in white hooded cloaks, walking with their heads held high and a distinctly military stance to the set of their shoulder as the ends of their cloaks billow softly in the wind.

There is an air of superiority to them. She sees it in the way they carry themselves and the red rune mark on their cloaks that she has not seen on any other Sternritter. Whoever they are, they must be high-ranking and important people in the Wandenreich hierarchy.

Rukia stiffens in Ichigo's arms, feeling her hackles rising as they draw close. But Ichigo doesn't even flinch at their approach. At the sound of their greeting, he doesn't answer in kind but merely inclines his head forward to nod at them.

A tall, hulking blonde is the first to break away from the trio as he approaches Ichigo with familiarity. Light reflects off the metal of his winged helmet and his booming voice carries itself well across the distance.

Rukia winces as his metal gauntlets make contact with Ichigo's back but Ichigo doesn't so much as grunt at the impact. Up close, the blonde is even more intimidating. Broad-chested and built like a tank, he looks like he might just snap her into two with a snap of his fingers. She can feel the smile on his face faltering as he catches sight of her in Ichigo's arms.

His disapproval is evident in the turn of his lips and she can feel the spike in killing intent radiating from him. Rukia readies herself, gathering her reiryouku in preparation for a Shakkahou. Shirayuki may be missing from her grasp but the Shinigami in her is itching for a fight. She will show them just how deadly a Shinigami can be or die trying anyways.

"Gerard, stop it! This Shinigami is mine. Back off!"

Her eyes snap to Ichigo who sends out a flare of reiatsu- menacing and frighteningly intense, in warning. He is strong and the sheer power of it rivals that of a Captain-level Shinigami or perhaps even greater than that. If all the Sternritters are as powerful as he is- Rukia digs her nails hard into her palms. She fears that the war for the three realms may be over before it even begins. Gerard's hand is still reaching for his weapon by his side, reluctant to stand down until Ichigo barks out- sharp and angry.

"I said, back the _fuck_ off!"

Ichigo's grip on her tightens. The muscleman scowls but obeys nonetheless, straightening himself to look Ichigo in the eye. His animosity for her still runs deep but he leashes it somewhat under Ichigo's withering glare.

"The All Father will not be pleased," says Gerard as his hand leaves the hilt of Hoffnug, "Jugram was looking for you earlier."

"That's between me and the All Father. Either way, not something you should concern yourself with," replies Ichigo coolly, shifting his hold on Rukia so she is now pressed fully against him, "I will speak to Jugram later. There is something else that I must attend to first."

By then, his comrades- a dark-skinned man with short white hair and the other, a man of medium height with greasy hair and shifty-looking eyes, have caught up with him, mirroring the same look of disbelief and disgust at the sight of her, but Ichigo silences their hate with a mere look.

"I am only saying this once: Rukia is **mine** and off-limits. Hands off or I _will_ cut them off and feed them to you, _one fucking finger at a time!_ "

He doesn't offer another word of explanation as he stalks past them with her in tow. Rukia's gaze lingers at their retreating figures and the hate-filled glares they direct at her. There is no love lost there and she has little doubt that they would have killed her, tore her apart limb by limb, if Ichigo wasn't there.

The alarm bells are ringing in her head as she begins to see the man who is holding her captive in a new and different light. Things are not adding up. The way Gerard seems to defer to him and obey him- just who in the world is Ichigo and why would a high-ranking Sternritter tolerate such blatant disrespect from him?

Just how high up the hierarchy is he?

She has too many questions and Ichigo seems determined to keep his secrets as he carries her deeper and deeper into the citadel.

.

"Let it go."

Lille- tall, dark and striking, is the last to recover from his shock, only looking up at the feel of cool metal resting on his shoulders. His eyebrows are knotted as he looks at Gerard. He does not understand. As a Sternritter, they are all creations of the All Father. To think that a Sternritter would willingly _sully_ himself by _associating_ with the filth that is Shinigami, going so far as to lay with it and threaten them over it—

He clenches his fist. This is all a slap to the All Father's face. Unforgivable!

But Gerard's hold on his shoulder is firm as the blonde tells him yet again to let it go.

"I can't, Gerard! That _thing_ is setting foot inside the All Father's palace, breathing the same air as us. I can't— This is not right!"

It verges on bestiality. He can't stomach the idea of whatever Ichigo is trying to do with that Shinigami woman. She is wearing a Sternritter cloak and from what he can see, her black robes are torn and dirty underneath it. Lille has no illusion about what happened between man and woman, especially on the battlefield where the lust for blood tiptoes a fine line for a primal lust for something more filling and the ring of metal against metal isn't nearly as fulfilling as the slip and slide of hot skin. But all Shinigamis are pests and beneath them. They should be exterminated, unfeelingly and without mercy, as decreed by His Majesty.

It is bad enough that he fucked the Shinigami. Now he seeks to bring that creature into their midst and treat it with care? Ichigo has fallen and as the leader of the Schutzstaffel, Lille cannot let it go. This is a stain that must be removed at all cost!

"Let others take care of it," says Gerard sagely to the angry man, "Jugram will set him straight even if the All Father won't. We shouldn't interfere. We must trust the All Father. Ichigo- Remember who he is, Lille; we don't want to cross lines that He set."

.

.

Rukia can barely tell where they are heading. The inside of Silbern is a maze and she gives up by the seventh corridor they pass, noting with bitterness that her plans for an escape may be even more impossible than she believed them to be. The corridors are all the same; impossible to tell one apart from the other. Every turn they take only leads them to another corridor that is identical from the last. The walls are all the same shade of macabre white, stripped and devoid of any adornments. There is barely any presence of life and they pass no one as they wander down a labyrinth of the halls and corridors.

Thankfully, Ichigo seems to know where he is going. He takes the stairs two at a time until he reaches what seems to be a set of double doors- which like all things in this godforsaken place is painted white and nearly indistinguishable from the walls.

At his slight push, they swing open, revealing a large room- a lounge with a roaring fire at the fireplace, tastefully decorated with plush chaises, burgundy throws and soft-looking pillows on them. It all looks so warm and inviting that Rukia would love nothing more than to sink into the plush cushions and just lay there, throwing a blanket over herself- all wrapped up from the cold as she falls into a deep sleep, and when she wakes up, this would all just be a bad dream.

There is an open kitchen not too far away. It looks like something that she would have seen from a magazine in the Human World- a Western layout, sleek lines, polished silver, surprisingly modern and fitted with what seems to be functioning set of stoves, oven, amenities that include a toaster of all things. The kitchen island gleams with cleanliness. A set of kitchen knives are out in the open, sitting in plain sight. Rukia counts an impressive six including a meat cleaver that is resting on a wooden chopping board. She carefully files the information away at the back of her mind.

Nothing holds her interest more than the platter of fresh fruits- the redness of the apples, purple and green grapes that glisten with ripeness. Her stomach makes a sound of protest while her mouth waters. She can't even remember the last time she ate, but she forces herself to look away before Ichigo notices her stares. She can't have him using her hunger against her and with that, she schools her expression into the Kuchiki-approved look of disinterest.

Ichigo's boots barely squeak as he walks across the hardwood flooring and leaves Shirayuki on the kitchen island. Rukia's gaze trails after it longingly. Distracted, she barely notices it when Ichigo makes a swift turn to the left, shutting the door behind them with a soft click.

The new room is dimly-lit, humid and warm. The air smells faintly of lavender and bergamot. Rows of white votive candles flicker and wane in glass and crystal candleholders set on shelves that seem to be carved into the back wall, while a few more are arranged around the washbasin. The bath tub by the wall is big enough to fit two. The edges of it are gleaming white, so much so that it sparkles. The setting to the bathroom is luxurious right down to the white fluffy towels that sit neatly folded on the marble countertop beside the washbasin.

It takes a while for her eyes to adjust to the new lighting. Ichigo sets her down gingerly after he removes her waraji sandals and white socks for her. The bathroom tiles under her aching bare feet are cool and dry. She takes three hesitant steps towards the washbasin, staring at her own reflection in the mirror that hangs above it.

A woman with dirt-smudged cheeks and haunted eyes stare back at her. The whiteness of Ichigo's cloak stands out on her- pure, untouched; so out of place from her dishevelled self and her own clothes that are torn and bloodied underneath it. The black chains on her have disappeared just as quickly as they appeared, barely leaving a mark on her skin but she rubs at her wrists all the same.

It feels _surreal._ She was out there on the battlefield, risking her life and fighting a war- her comrades and friends dropping like flies around her, merely hours ago. Yet now, she is behind enemy lines, alive and standing in the middle of bathroom so opulent and luxurious, being kept as someone's _pet_.

She panics when she hears the rustling of clothes. But by the time she whirls around, she can barely speak, unable to tear her eyes away from the sight of Ichigo. His beauty is a raw and terrible thing. Broad-shouldered and stripped naked, Rukia learns that though Ichigo is lean, the cords of muscles on him are well-defined and rippling with power in the low light. There are healed cuts and curved scars on his body that hints of a past that is not as clean-cut as she thinks; badges of honour that gives justification to the Sternritters' behaviour towards him. Her eyes follow the bob in his Adam's apple, slipping lower to the wispy trail of ginger hair that goes lower and lower still until she sees his cock, hanging at half-mast against his thighs.

The difference in size between them is easily apparent. Ichigo towers over her, picks her up like she is his personal ragdoll and weightless to him. His cock is big and thick enough that she can't help but wonder if she can wrap her hand fully around it. She is not so naïve as to be blind to his intentions towards her, to what they might do to their enemies that they spare on the battlefield. She may not be experienced but she is not blind to what happens between a man and a woman in the bedroom. The mechanics of sex are simple enough, but in their case, she doesn't think it would fit.

"See something that you like?"

Rukia's face colours, snapping back to reality; horrified that she has been caught staring. She feels his arousal growing as he approaches her with carnal hunger in his eyes. She gulps, taking a step back only to hiss as her back hits the edge of the countertop. At the feel of his callused fingers tugging at the clasp on the cloak, she stutters, trying to push his hand away.

"I-I can do it myself."

He chuckles, "What makes you think you have a choice?"

His eyes are liquid gold as he cups at her jaw, sliding his fingers into her hair while the other presses against the small of her back as he brings her closer. The cloak pools to the floor with a tug and the rest of her clothes- already falling apart at the seams to begin with, are easily removable and soon follow. Under his hungry gaze, Rukia tries somewhat unsuccessfully to cover herself but Ichigo wouldn't let her. He lets his gaze linger for a second longer on her mulberry-tinged nipples, the tapering in her waist before it flares to her hips, the bed of black curls at her sex.

His grasp on her wrist is firm but gentle as he easily gathers her up into his arms and deposits her into the tub. The coolness of the porcelain tub does nothing to sooth her. The anxiety in her is palpable as Ichigo climbs in after her. She keeps her eyes on him- distrust evident in them but Ichigo only pulls her closer- her back to his front, seating her between his legs and caging her in with his larger body. Rukia's hands clench at the edge of the tub.

"Relax," he tells her with his voice soft and soothing. Rukia flinches at his touch on her knuckles but he perseveres and firmly pries her fingers off it, pressing them on his knees instead with a press of his lips to the top of her shoulders, "You can trust me. I don't want to hurt you, Rukia. I just want to make you feel _good_."

Ichigo reaches over her to grab at the silver hose attached to the hand-held showerhead and turns the water on. Hot water hisses and steam rises, fogging up the mirror. He tests the temperature of the water on himself before he puts it on her.

Despite her best efforts to show nothing but disdain and disinterest in his actions, Rukia can't help but moan at the lap of hot water against her tired muscles, her toes curling at how the ache and tightness in her body seems to evaporate under the run of water. There is a sound of a bottle being squeezed, something citrusy and minty in the air before Ichigo turns his attention back to her.

"Let's get you cleaned up," he whispers with a gentle scrape of his teeth at her ear lobes and a press of his lips to the back of her neck as he massages the shampoo into her hair, nails lightly scrapping against her scalp. It is not fair what he is doing to her. This is what lovers do to each other and she shouldn't be giving in to him. But as the water rivulets run down her back, Rukia shuts her eyes. She doesn't want to fight what he is doing. It is hard to keep her guard up when he is being so careful with her. It feels so wonderful to be cared for, to be tended to in this way.

He pushes her wet hair to the side and mindful of the soap suds getting into her eyes as he rinses the shampoo off her hair. She turns her head to look back at him and feels heat flooding the cheeks, suddenly shy with the intensity showing on his face. The look on Ichigo's face is one of determination and he is so focused on her and her pleasure, devoted to making her feel good in his arms. His touch is tender and light as he tends to her wounded body next, sponging lightly with a soft cloth to scrub the dirt and dried blood off. He takes care to soothe the sting of the soap on her wounds with his kisses.

"Does this feel good to you?"

Rukia can do nothing more than nod as hot breath fans her cheeks. If she were a weaker woman, she thinks she would have cried.

"Good," Ichigo says, nuzzling at her wet skin, his large hands cupping at her breasts as he presses himself and his arousal against her. Rukia's breathing hitches, her mind suddenly taking a perverse turn, wondering how it would feel with his cock filling her, stretching her out, more so as his kisses trail down her throat. This is wrong, she thinks as she shakes those thoughts away. She knows she shouldn't but—

"Because I am about to make you feel even _better_."

Rukia bolts upright, slapping a hand to her mouth to muffle her moans at the sudden intrusion of his fingers. Ichigo stuffs his callused fingers into her moist heat without warning. They rub at her clit, pleasuring her. Rukia's reaction is primal as she instinctively buckles her hips at them, weak for how they fill her up and stroke at her folds.

" _Nngghh-_ I-Ichi- _Go!_ "

She is so _wet-_ in more ways than one and it is embarrassing to feel her arousal, her walls clenching tight at his fingers and the squelch of her needy sex as they become coated in her slick. The curl of his fingers inside of her as they rub and tease at her feels so _good._ She feels hot and feverish, caught in a trance and entirely too far gone to care as she brings her hands to pinch and tug at her nipples until they pebble.

" _Ah—_ "

She gives a cry of pleasure, throwing her head back to rest her full weight against Ichigo as a gentle stream of water shoots at her swollen clit. Her body jerks but Ichigo holds her in place. He grins as his fingers slip in between the streams of water, stroking her while the water hits her clit. He experiments with the angle of the stream, playing with the settings as he watches her reactions, paying attention to when her breath catches to know what she likes and what she doesn't.

"Just like that, Rukia. You feel so wet and _tight._ Such a good little Shinigami, so eager to please her master, _"_ Ichigo coos, sharp teeth nipping lightly at her flushed skin as his hands grab at the back of her knee, spreading her legs apart so his fingers can slot themselves deeper and fuller inside of her. He knows that he can be so good to her and take care of all her needs. By the time he is done, she wouldn't even _dream_ of leaving his side.

Rukia is strangely pliable through the haze of pleasure that Ichigo brings. She doesn't resist his touch but hitches her legs higher over his hips. She needs more, she thinks as her hand leaves the perch on his knees to wrap itself around his wrist, guiding him deeper inside of her so he can touch her just the way she needs to be touched.

Ichigo curls his lips. He likes watching her. He feels himself getting painfully hard just by the sight of her face contorting in pleasure. Her worries and animosity melt away as the pursuit of her own release overtakes them. It makes for an erotic sight to see her violet eyes half-shut in mindless haze. The grip she keeps on his wrist to hold him in place as she chases her high is near-bruising while the other plays at her nipples, tweaking them until they strain. Soft breathless mewls slip out between choked moans of his name and his male pride swells.

Ichigo knows she is close, feels it as her walls clamp tight against his fingers and with a loud scream, she falls apart for him. Her legs are still twitching when she comes to while he busies himself by peppering kisses at her throat.

She is panting and her face adorably flushed when she feels his stiff cock pressing against her back. Ichigo takes the opportunity to steal a kiss from her lips, liking how she is too busy trying to catch her breath to resist him.

"D-Do you want to—" she gulps, suddenly shy now that the bliss of the orgasm has left her system– "Y-You didn't come and you're still hard."

He chuckles, tucking the stray bang behind her ears as he teases, "Do you want me to?"

Her silence is telling and he says nothing more on the matter as he wraps one arm around her, kissing her soundly on her cheeks while the other touches himself, stroking his length. He groans out her name in need. Rukia stiffens at the lewd noises that he is making, determined to keep her eyes fixed on the shower tiles in front of her. Her nipples are still hard and pebbled. The Sternritter is a bad influence on her. All she can think about is how easy it would be for her to just reach out behind her and wrap her hand around his cock- swollen and red at the tip, pre-cum leaking from it.

Maybe there is a part of her that wants to _touch_ him, wants to do for him what he did to her and—

.

" _Ruki-AH—"_

_._

The sound of his heavy groans stills her from her daydreams. He jerks himself off, climaxing with a shudder as he buries his face in her wet hair. Her chest tightens. A spurt of something wet hits her back and she tries hard to curb her dangerous thoughts. She fights to keep her reactions checked when Ichigo presses more kisses to her shoulders, running water down her back and between her legs. He keeps her close and melded to him even as he washes himself, cleaning the muck of battle and the evidence of his messy release.

They stay under the water for a little while longer. Ichigo is the first to step out as he twists the faucet off. Water beads down the lines on his back and Rukia can do nothing but stare as he dries himself in front of her. He wraps a clean towel around his waist and reaches for her again, scooping her out of the tub.

"I-I can walk by myself!"

Rukia's eyebrows are furrowed as he sets her on the edge of the tub, towelling her hair dry for her. She is far from an invalid and wary of how kind Ichigo is to her. She can't let herself forget that he is the enemy. There are still so many things about him that she doesn't know and he is already too bewitching to her senses.

Ichigo is dangerous.

"I just don't want you to slip and hurt yourself," he says quietly as he presses the towel into her hands, "Wait here. I'll go get the first aid kit."

Rukia hardens her heart, telling herself that she doesn't feel anything at all when his touch leaves her. This is just the way it should be between them. The _thing_ that just happened between them, must never happen again.

.

By the time Ichigo emerges with the kit and a tunic, her shoulder-length hair is almost dry. He is half-dressed with snug trousers hugging his hips, naked from the chest up with a towel hanging from his shoulders. Rukia feels a bit more like herself again, more like a Shinigami- in control and grounded in her new reality. She has made herself somewhat presentable, covering her privates with the towel he used to dry her hair.

If Ichigo notices any change in her, he says nothing. His frown is deep-set as he dabs at her wounds with antiseptics and puts on clean dressings for her. Tears prick at her eyes at the sting but she resolutely keeps her eyes open, determined to keep them at bay. No more weaknesses- especially not in front of Ichigo.

"We'll need to get you new clothes but for now, just put this on. It should fit."

Rukia hastily shrugs the borrowed shirt on, grateful for the chance to not be naked and on display for him. The cotton shirt is well-worn and smells just like him. It is still comically large on her, coming down to her knees and she wears it like a dress. Ichigo's amusement is evident in the curve of his lips and Rukia scowls, daring him to say something about her state of clothes. It is after all, his fault that she is even in this mess to begin with.

He leads her out of the bathroom and Rukia makes a beeline for the kitchen island, from when she saw Shirayuki last. But the sword is nowhere to be found. It would have been too easy of course.

She snaps at him, "What did you do with Shirayuki? Where is my zanpakutou?"

Shirayuki is the only thing that ties her to her Shinigami identity in this place. It is her only source of comfort. She cannot allow it to be taken from her.

"Give her back!"

Her fingers find themselves at the handle of the meat cleaver, pointing it at Ichigo as she demands him to return her sword. She hates how her voice is on the verge of breaking but it hurts her pride more to see him sigh, ignoring her demands as he tries to talk her down.

"Calm down, Rukia. You don't want to do this. Put the knife down before you hurt yourself."

"Who are you?" she asks instead. She is angry at how he is using her name so casually. He has no right to! No, she refuses to listen to any more of his lies. The Sternritters are all cut from the same cloth. They are all the same and they want only one thing from her- her submission.

Ichigo gives an exasperated sigh, "I told you. My name is Kurosaki Ichigo."

She scowls. That name means nothing to her. "What do you want from me? Why are you doing this?"

A normal Sternritter would have killed her off then and there. Shinigamis are filth and deserve to die. She reads it in their glares and knows it to be true but Ichigo has a different streak of sadism in him that runs deep. He is holding her captive, wanting to break her spirits before he ruins her. Well, Rukia has had enough of his little charade. She won't play house with him and feed his twisted delusions any longer.

She charges with her knife but Ichigo is already waiting for her. He sees her attack coming from miles away and easily disarms her, wrenching the knife away from her tight grip. Pinning her body to the ground, his hands wrap themselves around her wrists, holding them above her head while his thighs bracket her hips.

Rukia swallows thickly as he grinds himself against her. She hates how her body flares and tingles warm at the press of their bodies. The shirt she has on is so thin- she may as well be naked underneath him. Her nipples are hard again and it peaks against the cotton material at the sight of his scowl. It is dark and vicious, and it makes her blood boil.

His face dips low and she hisses as his hot mouth envelops her straining tips through the cotton, pink tongue swirling around her areola, teeth scraping against the rosebuds. She is growing wet again and whimpers as she rubs her thighs together to alleviate the ache between her legs. It wouldn't take much for him to push the shirt up and have his way with her.

There is a dark thrill that courses through her veins at the thought and she thinks it is the same for him as the grip on her wrists tightens. Ichigo's mouth leaves her nipples, leaving behind two damp spots on her shirt as he meets her gaze. His pupils are rings of dark burnished gold and Rukia sees herself reflected in them- an unhinged woman, hair wild and eyes even wilder.

This- _this_ is what he reduces her to.

"Believe it or not, I am one of the nice guys around here. Giselle wouldn't hesitate to turn you into one of her little zombies and Äs Nödt- the sadistic prick would _love_ to see you get eaten alive by your own fear. But that doesn't mean you get to pull shit like you did with me. You do not want to get on my bad side, _Rukia_ ," he growls.

The kiss he presses to her lips is bruising. He wants to punish her for acting out but Rukia is determined not to go quietly. She is not meek and she has been feigning her obedience for far too long. She has wildness running through her veins, a side to her that is near feral. She craves violence- or at least, there is a part of her that doesn't shy away from it. Ichigo has brought out this side of her - the street orphan that sleeps with one eye open, fending for herself when no one else would; the wild streak that the Kuchiki elders have tried in vain to bleed out of her. You can take the girl out of Rukongai, but you can't take the Rukongai out of her.

When Ichigo presses himself against her again, red lips hot on hers, she retaliates by nipping him on his lips. Ichigo hisses, yelping from the sudden pain, his tongue darting to lick at the blood from the cut. The glare he shoots at her burns her and she knows she is playing with fire. She is in his world now and he can easily end her, but blood stains her lips and fire rules her head. She is simply too angry to care. Mutual destruction is too tempting a thought.

"Little Shinigamis should not play with fire unless they are prepared to deal with the consequences," he growls before throwing her over his shoulders, heading towards the direction of the bedroom instead. Rukia fights him every inch of the way, kicking and biting, sharp nails leaving angry red marks down his bare back.

She won't go down without a fight.

She won't!

He asked for this. He brought her home, thinking that she would be meek and docile- the perfect _pet_. She will show him just how wrong he was. She is no feral kitten. Kuchiki Rukia is a hellcat and he will rue the day he ever thought she can be brought to heel.

Rukia lands on her back as Ichigo throws her onto the bed. She clambers up, fully prepared to claw him blind and bite his dick off if he tries to force himself on her, but to her surprise, Ichigo is not there.

Instead, there is a loud thud as the door slams shut and Rukia flies out of bed. She hammers her fists at the door when the handle refuses to turn, screaming at Ichigo on the other side of the door.

"Let me out!"

.

.

.

Yhwach keeps his own counsel as the Sternritters before him present their case. Jugram stands at his right and knows that his patience is being tried but does nothing to intervene. His Schutzstaffel- elite bodyguards are supposed to be a cut above the rest and know better than to annoy him with their petty drama. On this occasion, they fall short off the mark and Lille in particular, is especially vocal and _annoying._

"He needs to be brought into line, Your Majesty. He is out of control. A Shinigami? What happens if he decides that he wants to keep her _spawns_ next? He—"

The doors to the throne room are slammed open, bringing the conversation to a standstill.

Speak of the devil indeed, thinks Yhwach as the man in question arrives. There is a cut to his lips, the look in his eyes dark and menacing, and his hair is even wilder than normal. The scowl on his face is vicious and the other Schutzstaffel clear off to give him a wide berth as he marches forward. He bows deep and solemn, dropping to one knee before rising at Yhwach's bidding.

"Ichigo," says Yhwach, "how good of you to join us today. Your compatriots have become quite… _concerned_ in regards to some of your less-than _orthodox_ behaviours."

Yhwach fixes him with a stern look, frowning. "They say that you have brought a Shinigami woman home to Silbern and that you went so far as to threaten your fellow brother-in-arms over her. Is that true?"

"Yes."

The uproar is deafening and Lille is once again screaming bloody murder about the need to keep the bloodline pure and clean. Gerard is trying in vain to restrain him, Askin is there adding fuel to fire while Pernida watches it all unfold from the shadows, with only its gleaming eyes showing. Yhwach sighs as he shares a look with Jugram. They are truly no better than squabbling children.

" _ **Silence!"**_

At his command, the world is mercifully silent again. He turns to Ichigo who stands defiant and is now openly glaring at Lille and Askin and asks, "Why?"

Ichigo shrugs.

"Why not? Hollows are mindless and uncouth beasts, yet we think nothing of controlling them, granting those who may be of use to us some special privileges. Shinigamis are only marginally better and thus, deserve nothing less. If we are truly to become the new world order, All Father- we must aspire to be above the rest. Hollows, Espadas, Shinigamis, Humans- truly there is no difference between them. They merely exist to serve us and you, All Father. And when you become the Soul King," Ichigo trails off, a predatory gleam that takes after Yhwach's settles in his eyes— "all will tremble and bow before you."

Yhwach grins, leaning forward to ask, "What do you intend to do with the Shinigami woman, Ichigo?"

"I intend to keep her, All Father. She is my pet. I am a man of my word. If anyone so much as _touches_ her, they will answer to _**me.**_ "

Ichigo lets loose, unleashing for the barest of a second, the pure chaos that is the swirl of reiryouku within him and the look on the faces of his Schutzstaffel is frightfully comical. Yhwach only wishes he could capture this moment in time. True, in terms of raw strength and pure power, Pernida and Gerard may give the boy a run for his money yet, but there is a reason why the Sternritters are wary of Ichigo, avoiding confrontations with him unless it is absolutely necessary.

They fear him- for a good reason. His soul sings off a complex and unnatural amalgamation of Shinigami, Quincy and the dreaded Hollow. The Quincy despises Hollows and makes a sport out of killing them yes, but Hollows are their natural enemies. To put it simply, Hollows are a virus, a disease that needs to be eradicated, the Quincy take up the call with relish, yet they have no antibodies against them. They have only managed to survive and enslave the existing population of Espadas and Hollows right now through sheer power and what they boast as a cunning mind.

But if there were to exist an Espada with enough reiatsu at his fingertips to rival that of the Soul King and pair it off with the ability of a Shinigami to fight with a zanpakutou AND a Quincy's ability to erase the existence of one's soul from existence, well- suffice to say all Quincy would have a good and valid reason to fear said entity.

The hypocrisy of it all—

He _loves_ it!

That entity is Ichigo- his greatest creation yet. He has created the perfect weapon. With his blood, he created a monster from a simple Gemischt Quincy. Ichigo's schrift is a great and terrible mix of all the powers known to mankind, to be moulded and utilized as a tool that he sees fit. He is Yhwach's favourite, rising to the occasion at every task that Yhwach set out for him, and the Quincy King can see no reason to deny him anything.

"Who are you, my son?"

Ichigo's answering smirk is smug and maniacal as he replies, "I am Kurosaki Ichigo. I am the Anomaly, a true and humble servant of the All Father."

Yhwach rises to his feet, proudly announcing his verdict to all the occupants in the throne room, "Then rise, Kurosaki Ichigo- Crown Prince of the Wandenreich. It shall be done. You have my blessing, my son to keep her."

.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, it is… um… _different_. But this is an AU for a reason. Y'all just gonna have to roll with whatever crazy ass theory I come up with. It can't be worse than Kubo's plot holes. XD
> 
> Song inspo: Closer (Nine Inch Nails), Desire (Meg Myers)
> 
> There is an E-rated Spotify playlist for the fic. [**Chained Playlist**](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6Xk12u8Ze2ibtA6NGsnkmo)


	3. Toxic

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_Rukia's expression is grim as the sound of another explosion echoes through the Barracks. It detonates a little too close for her liking, loud and powerful enough to send the building she is about to enter shaking, knocking the shoji door off its hinges._

" _It's getting closer," she mutters to herself as the dust settles. She casts a worrying look to the sky, glaring at the strange new world that has opened above Seireitei._

_The Quincy Army- the Wandenreich is much more powerful than anyone ever expected and the Gotei 13 are woefully unprepared for the sudden siege. Their enemies know too much. They know exactly when and where to strike. They have had the time to gather intelligence and it shows in the end result. Every weakness in Seireitei's defences has been exploited and the chinks in her armour are becoming glaringly obvious._

_The Fourth Division Infirmary is crammed full of injured Shinigamis and Rukia has seen first-hand the carnage rendered to the civilians- the ordinary Souls on the streets of Seireitei, too weak to protect themselves against the onslaught of the invading army. The new recruits and unseated officers fare no better, many of them pulverized and eviscerated with a mere blow. The streets of Seireitei are a warzone full of disfigured corpses and ruined buildings. The once clean pavements now run slick with blood. Most of the Seireitei nobles have hightailed into the Living World at the first sign of trouble brewing. There is a part of her that burns from the shame by association._

_Yamamoto-Soutaichou was last heard to have taken a stance. He has drawn his sword against the Quincy Emperor, engaging the tyrant and a handful of his finest attackers- his Sternritters, in battle. His gruff voice is still ringing in her ears:_

" _Place everything you have on the line, and crush them where they stand! Even if they should tear your flesh from your bones, make every last fragment of those bones an iron wall! They must not be permitted to set a single foot upon Soul Society's ground!_ _"_

_But Rukia has spent too much time on the streets of Inuzuri as an orphan to be optimistic. A mere victory from the Soutaichou- as powerful as he may be, would not be enough to turn the tides of the battle in their favour._

_It borders on treason but most divisions have already withdrawn the bulk of their attack forces to conserve what little fighting power they have. Tensions run thick in the air and their pride stings, but the writing is on the wall: it is only a matter of time before Seireitei falls. The Captains are loathed to admit it but a tactical retreat is the only option left._

_Loud hacking coughs draw her attention back to the situation at hand. Rukia steels herself as she enters the room._

" _Ukitake-Taichou!" she calls out in alarm when she sees her captain crumpled on the floor. Ukitake is doubled over in pain, holding a hand to his mouth as he tries his best to contain his coughing fit. The aftershock from the explosion leaves nothing unscathed. The office looks ransacked with knocked-over furniture and paperwork littered all over the wooden floorboards. The inkwell was knocked over when the table toppled and conveniently shatters, splattering ink and fractured splinters of the slab everywhere. Ukitake's favourite tea set is nothing more than broken shards of china and she takes care to avoid stepping on them as she makes her way over to him._

_Rukia helps him to his feet, patting him gently on his back as he eases himself into a seating position. His breathing is wheezy and laboured as he recovers from the attack. The coughing fits have become more erratic and intense lately, with each bout lasting longer than the last and Rukia doesn't want to think about the implications._

" _You wanted to see me, Taichou?" Rukia asks tentatively instead. She was in the middle of directing the new recruits before she got called away. Kiyone has insisted that it was important and that Ukitake needed to see her urgently._

_He shakes his head, trying his best to speak in between coughs, callused fingers pressing something into her hands, "t-take this!"_

" _This is—"_

_The polished wood she holds in her palms is well-aged and smooth to the touch. It radiates warmth, lends weight to her heart despite its appearance. Engraved upon it are the characters and flower insignia of the Thirteenth. Rukia is holding the vice-captain's badge in her hands and she finds herself speechless at the gesture. She is not worthy._

" _I-I cannot accept this, Ukitake-Taichou!" She is trying her best not to stutter as she pushes the badge back at her captain, "I-I have not done anything to merit t-this. Kaien-dono would be—"_

_Ukitake's tone is stern as his voice cuts through her protests._

" _You can and you will. You have more than earned your position. Byakuya-kun cannot begrudge me for this. To do so in Seireitei's greatest time of need would have been unimaginably selfish and dishonourable."_

_Ukitake readily accepts the badge from Rukia's trembling fingers, but instead of pocketing it into the depths of his sleeves. He reaches over to tie it over her arm. He knots it tight and beams at her like a proud parent when it is done. The sight of the badge on her forearm fills her with pride and Shirayuki hums in contentment at the acknowledgement of their strength._

" _Kaien would be proud of his protégé," Ukitake tells her; a wistful expression on his face, "I only wish it could have been done under better circumstances."_

_The sound of another explosion nearby sends the building groaning, interrupting the moment. Ukitake rises to his feet, every inch the alert and formidable Captain that he is. His hand grips the hilt of his unreleased zanpakutou and mirrors the look on Rukia's face._

" _Yama-Jii is only prolonging the inevitable. Soul Society- Seireitei can't hold on for much longer like this. But it will, if nothing else, buy us some time. Rukia, listen to me. There isn't much time left. We have to leave for the Human World now. There is a plan- a failsafe if you will. Gather as many people as you can. The other divisions are already on the move. I will explain more when we get there."_

_Rukia bows her head low, "Yes, Taichou. I will round up the rest of the division immediately. Kiyone and Sentarou should stay with you."_

_Her captain stills, frowning at her. "What about you? You are coming with us of course, Rukia."_

" _Forgive my impertinence, Taichou but the Wandenreich recognize the faces of the Captains and most of the seated officers in the Gotei 13. They would have targeted you the instant they saw you. You will need someone to draw their attention away while you make your escape."_

_Rukia chews at her bottom lip and bows her head even lower._

" _A vice-captain supports her captain- to the best of her abilities. I must lead by example. I-I—" her fists clench. Fear lines her thoughts but she stands firm by her decision as she replies, "I will lead some of the members away to act as bait while you and the others make your escape."_

_The set of Ukitake's jaw is tight with unease as he mulls over Rukia's decision. Rukia knows that he is torn. Her captain is too kind and the thought of leaving behind even one of the fresh out of the Academy recruits is enough to plague him with worry and regret. But this is war and hard decisions like this need to be made every second on it. The need of the many outweighs those of a few. The realist in him knows it too. There is no time to be magnanimous, no time for second-guessing._

_They need to survive this and regroup in the Human World for a chance to win back all that they have lost._

" _The Wandenreich will see the badge and come running after me. But I am an unseated officer until now so they should have little to no intelligence gathered on me," says Rukia as she tries to convince him to go along with her plan, "I will be careful and re-join you in the Human World as soon as I can."_

" _Rukia, you—"_

" _Please don't tell me any more about your plans, Taichou. I don't want the knowledge to be used against you somehow."_

_The Wandenreich is devious and she has heard horror stories of comrades being turned against each other and Shinigami bankai being stolen. It isn't too much of a stretch to think that a device can be utilized somehow to make Shinigamis betray each other._

_At length, Ukitake concedes. Heaving a weary sigh, he tells her in a hushed whisper, "Do not engage the Sternritters in battle unless absolutely necessary. Come to the Human World with your team as soon as Kiyone sends you a message via kido. A man that goes by the name of Urahara Kisuke will hold the senkaimon open for you. I will inform him to keep it open until your team makes it through."_

_Rukia gives a firm nod._

" _Remember our insignia, Rukia. Hope springs eternal for those who live to fight another day. Survive this- whatever happens."_

" _Understood."_

_Rukia is dry-eyed as she exits the room. The weight of her new badge is reassuring on her. There is something reminiscent of its predecessor in it- the sound of ocean waves crashing against the shoreline, sea-green eyes as calm as they are radiant. Kaien-dono's familiar presence lingers and Rukia grips the hilt of Shirayuki tighter as she makes her way to the training grounds to gather her troops._

_The Wandenreich has no reason to keep an eye out for her. Rukia is neither the most powerful nor the most skilful among the Shinigamis. Her zanpakutou while admired for its icy beauty is not one that is feared nor given as much of a consideration as that of Captain Hitsugaya's Hyorinmaru. Her anonymity- her identity as a previously unseated Shinigami is probably the best protection she can be afforded in this instance._

_They will be fine, she tells herself. Senrarou and Kiyone will look after him and makes sure he doesn't overexert himself. Her captain is strong and resilient. His illness has not gotten the better of him after so many years and Rukia is inclined to think that nothing will. Ukitake needs to survive because she cannot imagine a Thirteenth Division that exists without him leading it._

_She holds her head up high, walking like a true noble born and bred within the walls of Seireitei and every inch the ice princess that she is rumoured to be. The Thirteenth have always been survivors at its core._

.

.

Rukia wakes up with a start. Her hand rises to her left arm only to feel soft cotton under her fingertips. There is no polished wood that sits there and her black shihakusho is conspicuously missing on her. She blinks, stirring awake, suddenly reminded of her predicament and the situation at hand. Sleep is now the furthest thing from her mind.

She grimaces, cheeks colouring as she remembers the tattered state of her shihakusho but that is beside the point. Unlike Shirayuki, the badge was still attached to her, wrapped and banded around the left arm of the uniform when she was captured and brought to Silbern. With luck, the band on her badge should hold. It should still be among the pile of dirty clothes left on the floor in the bathroom. She needs to see for herself that it is still here with her.

The badge is a physical reminder of Ukitake's trust in her, a sign of pride in her abilities and her loyalty as a Shinigami. For the sake of Kaien and her captain, she must know that she still has it on her, that their trust in her has not been misplaced. Her mind is focused at the task at hand, eager to find it.

But why can't she move?

She is being held down by something. It feels like a furnace has been lit and stuck to her back. She can feel her clothes being plastered to her as sweat rolls down her neck. Her mouth feels dry and she squirms against the heat source, trying to get away from it, but for some reason, she can't.

She half turns, raising her head weakly to peer at what's behind her only to stiffen at the sight of the sleeping man holding onto her like his personal teddy bear. Strong sinewy arms are draped across her midsection, holding her in place.

Streaks of the dying day make their way in through the open blinds and the golden light gilds him. Honey-brown skin thrums warm under her touch. He is bare-chested and naked save for the loose pants he keeps on. Pink blush stains her cheeks when she realizes just how tightly they are pressed against each other.

.

_Ichigo!_

.

She must have been even more exhausted than she realized; too tired to sense his presence until just now. Soft ginger hair covers his eyes. In his sleep, he looks so endearingly boyish and unguarded. Rukia reaches out, struck by the sudden temptation to run her fingers through his hair before she snatches them away as though she's been burnt. Looks can be deceiving and the Sternritter is a textbook example of it. She really can't afford to let her guard down around him or he'll worm his way under her skin and ruin her.

As if sensing the weight of her stare and her heavy thoughts, tawny eyelashes flutter open to reveal golden brown eyes. His gaze is piercing and easily steals her breath away when they meet.

"You're awake," he murmurs. His voice is husky with sleep and Rukia is embarrassingly affected by it and the trail of kisses he presses down the length of her neck, his lips ghosting the shell of her ear. Goosebumps rise on her skin. Memories of what happened between them earlier are still fresh on her mind. She is ashamed of her body's response to him, ashamed of how she barely even puts up a fight against it. She gulps, trying to keep her tone curt as she asks him.

"How did you get here?"

"What a strange question to ask," he muses aloud. His grip on her suddenly tightens and Rukia feels her heart speeding in response, "This is my bedroom and you are sleeping in my bed. Tell me; where else would I be, _Ru-ki-a?_ "

His fingers reach out to play with the ends of her shoulder-length hair. Rukia flinches from his touch, inwardly cursing. She feels the brush of his fingers against her flushed skin a second later and struggles against it but to no avail, Ichigo is much stronger than she is after all. He merely holds her tighter to his chest, entangling their legs together as she squirms. She growls, digging her nails into his arms to make him loosen his hold. Yet Ichigo doesn't so much as grunt from the pain and retaliates by nipping at her exposed throat and the top of her shoulders.

The makeshift dress she has on makes for a good sleepwear, but the cotton is too sheer and too thin for anything else. It hides very little of her figure. Baggy to begin with, the collar of the shirt slips a little lower over her left shoulder while the end rides up a little higher on her thighs the more she struggles and squirms. It offers no resistance at all as Ichigo slides his hands underneath it.

Fingers callused from the grip of a bow and sword rove at her naked body. His large hands stray to cup and palm at her breasts. The pads of his fingers are rough but the friction created as his touch slides and brushes against her heated skin is _delicious_. She clamps down hard on her lower lip, trying not to moan even as hot breath fans her cheeks. She is sensitive and the way he tugs and pulls at her nipples makes her shudder with need.

"S-Stop that!"

Rukia doesn't understand his obsession with them. She has always been of the opinion that her breasts are smaller than average and far from impressive, but Ichigo seems to think of them as the perfect handful. His eyes take on a predatory gleam as he gropes at them, flicking and tweaking at her nipples with his fingers until they are hardened nubs and straining against the cotton.

"Give in to me, Rukia. You know you want to. I can make you feel _so_ good. Make you come over and over again with my mouth, my fingers and my _cock_ —" He thrusts his hips shallowly at her. The outline of the bulge strains against his pants and the feel of it is enough for her to catch her breath. Her eyes are half-shut and glassy. He takes advantage of it to press more of himself against her, his voice dipping an octave lower—"I'll fuck you until you're screaming my name and stuffed full of my come. I won't stop even when you _beg_ me to, Rukia. I want to let everyone know that you're mine."

His dark, throaty chuckles are ringing in her ears as his fingers lightly tracing the swell of her breasts, flatness of her stomach and lower still. Her breath hitches when they dip dangerously low past her navel, a single digit twirling at the curls of her sex. She is so embarrassingly _wet_ , so weak at the sound of his voice and the filthy words he spews that she is shaking, her mind running fevered and wild at the images she conjures in the darkest recesses of her mind.

She sees herself being bent over the bed, face down and fucked hard into the mattress while Ichigo makes good on his promise. He keeps his weight on her, pinning her down as he ploughs into her mercilessly, over and over again until there's a mess of body fluids leaking from her holes. He thrusts deep, burying himself until he is balls-deep inside of her, pulling away only to slam himself harder and faster inside of her. His fingers are rubbing at her clit, his lips muttering obscene, _filthy_ things into her ears and she is screaming as she falls apart under him.

" _Oh—_ " he smirks, taking note of her dilated pupils and her breathless whimpers— "you _really_ like the sound of that, don't you? You like the idea of me fucking you like an animal until you can't walk straight, Rukia?"

_._

_Yes, yes—_

_._

Without warning, her stomach makes a loud rumble, stilling their movements. Ichigo frowns, withdrawing his touch.

"When was the last time you ate?"

The innocent question shatters the delirium of the moment. Rukia's face colours, her ears are burning from shame as she realizes what she was about to do. She hides her face, her hands tugging at the ends of the shirt to pull it down. Her mouth is dry and her tongue is too thick to form words.

"D-Does it matter?"

Ichigo scowls, tilting her face up by the chin to deliver a searing kiss to her lips, nipping at her lower lip for good measure as he mutters, "I didn't go through all that effort of saving you only for you to starve yourself to death. You should have told me. I take care of what's mine."

She bristles. He must be delusional. 'Saving' her?

He did no such thing! He kidnapped her and made her his pet. He _violated_ her, but worse still, she _wanted_ him to. His dirty-talking made her wet and she wanted- she _wants—_

She raises her head towards him. Ichigo's golden eyes are gleaming and his body heat hovers close by. She can easily reach for him and pick up from where they left off. Physical attraction and carnal desires simmer within her. She is sorely tempted. Her body is still aching, her mood partly soured by the withdrawal of his touch. The realization that she wants him; that she is enslaved to her body's physical reaction to him, scares her.

The room is spinning. Rukia spirals- too caught up in her thoughts, too shocked by the extent of her own depravity to react as Ichigo gathers her into his arms. There is a hint of perverse amusement behind his smirk. He is watching her, studying her reactions as she brings her fingers to her lips, stunned into silence by the unwelcomed realization.

Soon, he thinks to himself, his little Shinigami will be his and screaming his name before the week is over. She is his and he will make her understand that, drive that point home with every brush of his lips against hers, every searing touch of his fingers on her body. He will fuck her hard and good and make sure she never leaves.

Ichigo lets the dark thrill settle under his bones, reigning in his more carnal impulses as he presses a soft kiss to the top of her head before tucking her under his chin. Good things come to those who wait after all, and he has her right where he wants her to be. There is no need to unsettle or make her skittish by rushing the process.

He carries her bridal style into the kitchen with an unusual cheerfulness to him, "Let me feed you."

.

"Stop glaring at the food and eat it," coaxes Ichigo as he holds out strawberry slices on a fork. He holds it by Rukia's mouth, tracing at the outlines of her lips with it to tempt her to open up.

The strawberries are as big as her thumb, thinly sliced and coated with a layer of powdery sugar. The sight of them cut neatly in a bowl- glistening and fresh is enough to make her drool. Her lips are stained red by the juices. They seep in through the crack of her lips and Rukia almost moans at the sweetness but she stubbornly keeps her lips clamped, keeps her eyes fixed on the wall behind Ichigo instead.

"I-I am not hungry."

The obvious lie is accompanied by another hungry growl from her stomach, earning her an exasperated sigh from Ichigo as he tries again.

"What's wrong? You know I didn't poison them."

Rukia was there, mutely watching from her perch on the kitchen stool after he deposited her on it. He runs the handful of strawberries under the tap, rinsing them dry before he proceeds to show off his skills with a knife, serving the fresh fruits in neat little slices.

As if to placate her concerns, he pops the sweetened strawberries into his own mouth, barely even chewing before swallowing. "See? You have nothing to fear from me. I don't want to hurt you. I won't force you into doing anything you don't want to."

Her eyes flash dangerously at that. She somehow finds her voice again. Her anger and frustration at the situation is only skin-deep, readily igniting as she reaches for it. She snorts as she tells him coldly, "Didn't stop you from pawing at me like a sex-crazed animal just now."

" _Oh,_ is that what it was?"

Ichigo chuckles, amused as he swipes his thumb across her lips while his hand grasps at the base of her chin, "Don't be a hypocrite, Rukia. You wanted me. You didn't fight it when I was touching you just now. What do you have to say to that?"

Rukia's cheeks burn. She is too honest for her own good to ever be a hypocrite. He has no right calling her out like this. She _hates_ him!

Her reflexes are honed and anger propels her actions. Her fingers are stinging and the side of his face turned away from her before she even realizes it. The surprise on his face is slight- his eyes barely widening, his smirk still curling on his lips.

"Looks like I struck a nerve there, huh?"

Her chest heaves when he wraps his hand around her outstretched wrist, grip turning bruising as he grins at her- shark-toothed and more than a little dangerous in the way his eyes are suddenly fire and gold.

She gulps, breath shuddering, "What do you want from me?"

"You know what I want, Rukia. I want y—"

Ichigo is interrupted as the doors to the apartment are pushed open with a loud groan. Surprised, they both whirl to turn their attention towards the doors.

The woman who enters the room is tall and beautiful. A mass of russet-toned curls tumble freely down her back. Much like her red hair, her features are equally striking though softened by the smile she wears, brown eyes just a shade darker than Ichigo's.

The stranger carries herself with an air of quiet confidence, demure perhaps- but by no means, meek. She is a Quincy- maybe even a Sternritter, thinks Rukia when her eyes flit to the long-sleeved fitted coat she has on. She is dressed for the weather with her white gloves, knee-length skirt and fur capelet. The ankle boots she has on makes a faint noise against the floorboards as she makes her way in. Rukia stiffens, suddenly conscious about her state of undress and the absence of Shirayuki.

Ichigo's immediate reaction to the stranger's arrival is significantly less awe-struck as he crosses the island in two strides and shields Rukia away from view by stepping in front of her.

" _Mother_ ," he scowls, crossing his arms, "do you mind?"

Rukia stares despite her best attempts to contain her surprise. She is stunned by the revelation. This gorgeous woman is Ichigo's _mother?!_

What is she doing _here?_

Hidden behind Ichigo, her eyes quickly flit between the two. She sees the resemblance- barely there in the shape of their eyes, but stronger in the stubborn tilt of their chins. Ichigo's hair is lighter and his eyes are more amber than brown.

His mother scoffs, waving him off. "Oh hush! Where are your manners, Ichigo? Introduce us!"

Ichigo rolls his eyes, but his gaze softens when he sees the way Rukia fists at her clothes despite the brave face she puts on. She has every right to be nervous given her previous experiences with Quincy and Sternritters, but his mother is an exception.

He reaches out and gently tugs her by the hand, "Don't be scared. This is Masaki, my mother. She won't hurt you."

"My idiot son is right, you know! I'm not going to hurt you."

"Hey!"

Ichigo scowls at the jab, but Masaki ignores him as she squeezes past. Her grin is bright enough to dazzle Rukia as she bends to her eye-level. She doesn't seem to mind Rukia's state of undress and prattles on, chiding at Ichigo for not getting her sooner.

Masaki frowns, poking her son in the chest, "Did you think you could hide this from your own mother? Silbern is already in an uproar over the news."

Ichigo grumbles, "I wasn't trying to keep you out of it at all! You're just early. I wasn't expecting you until later."

"You wanted my help. So stop whining!"

Turning to Rukia, Masaki's gaze is motherly and more than a little protective as she notices how thin she is. The Shinigami is tiny to begin with. Her violet eyes are big and wide, guileless even. Her wrists are slender enough that Masaki thinks she can close her hand around it with room to spare. Rukia looks so helpless and small. The situation couldn't have been worse for her- a lone Shinigami trapped inside an enemy fortress, surrounded by threats at all sides, yet she tries her best to straighten her back, suppressing her discomfort to meet their gazes openly and without fear.

"I can see why my boy made such a fuss over you."

Ichigo would have found the combination irresistible. Masaki doesn't doubt the truth behind stories of how he plucked her straight from the warzone, going so far as to threaten the Schutzstaffel over her. Her son is nothing if not stubborn and when he finds something that he wants to keep, Masaki pities the poor fool who dares to come between him and the object he desires.

She couldn't have cared less if it is just an object that Ichigo's fixated on. But she is conflicted as she stares at the woman in front of her. The Shinigami is a person, not a toy or a prize to be jealously hoarded. The lioness in her is aghast at how her son has wrapped Rukia in a thin cotton shirt and if the bite marks were any indication at all, has tried to assert his claim over her in more ways than one.

"Come!" Masaki says, abruptly getting to her feet. She needs to assess the situation with her own eyes— "There is no time to waste. I already have the seamstress and her assistant waiting in my room."

If she finds out from Rukia that her son forced himself on her, violated her in any way at all, Masaki grimaces; there will be words!

Ichigo scowls. "At least let me feed her before she leaves. She hasn't even eaten yet."

Masaki detaches her fur capelet to wrap it around Rukia as she leads her towards the door. She hides her frown as she waits for Rukia to slip on her waraji sandals. The thin slippers will have to do for now until they get warmer clothes and fur lined boots for her. The chill of Silbern is merciless.

At the threshold of the door, she shoots her son a sharp glare. "Don't you worry about that! We'll get the fitting done and have a bit of a girl talk while _you_ reflect on your actions and think about what you did wrong."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Masaki rolls her eyes. She thought she raised him better than that. "Figure it out! I didn't raise a simpleton for a son."

.

.

The mirrors are full-length and ornate, framed in silver and the edges designed to resemble creeping vines. Surrounded by three of them, Rukia stands still on a foot stool. She is dressed in a simple shift dress lent to her by the dressmaker as her measurements are being taken.

The seamstress is a quiet woman with brown hair and cool hands, a woman of many talents it seems, doubling as shoemaker for her. The assistant is decidedly mute. The only sound that Rukia hears from her is the sound of pen scratching lightly on paper as she jots down the measurements and the snap of measuring tape that slides against her skin. Both women carefully avoid her gaze, barely looking up at all as they work in tandem. They speak only when spoken to, answering Masaki's questions respectfully.

Rukia doesn't detect much animosity from them, at best it borders on indifference. Their touch is clinical and detached, only lingering long enough for them to complete their tasks. Both women seem content to pretend that she is there as a doll to model clothes on and nothing more. Their focus is centred on Masaki. Her waraji sandals need replacing and when Masaki makes a rushed order for more appropriate footwear for her, the woman bends over backwards to meet her request. Rukia lets her mind wander as the woman becomes embroiled in a discussion with Masaki over the materials and designs- _'Does Madame Kurosaki prefer the taffeta silk for the dress?' 'Is the design of the pleated skirt to Madame's liking?'_

Just who are the Kurosakis and why are both mother and son treated with such deference?

"Rukia!"

She snaps back into reality.

"Yes, Masaki-san?"

The woman frowns. "Are you sure there's nothing in particular that you would like to request?"

Rukia shakes her head. She has seen the design sketches. They feature dresses and skirts, with some knitwear and woollen jumpers thrown in the mix. The silhouettes are clean and simple- very much to her taste. She doesn't have any more to add.

"Hmm," says Masaki as she flips through the sketches with a critical eye. There is a further discussion prompted on the choice of material for one of the dresses in particular and the embroidery details at the hemline, but Rukia wilfully tunes it out. At length, Masaki shuts the portfolio and Rukia thinks she hears a sigh of relief from the women.

"How quickly can they be done?"

"Within the week, Madame," says the dressmaker, "The undergarments and the shoes will be done earlier- by the end of the day after tomorrow."

"Good. Now, I have a special request. My son is not to know about this," whispers Masaki conspiratorially as she takes a sheaf of paper and starts sketching away. Rukia sneaks a peek at the drawing, her face colouring when the shapes begin to take shape in graphite. Masaki is a talented artist but the clothes that she sketches can barely be called as such.

The end result is a two-piece bustier set that seems to be held together by ribbons going down the back. There are sheer panels by the side, a deep V-cut that Masaki has shaded in and written 'lace' by the side. The garter and stockings are the finishing touches that she puts on the sketch and Rukia wonders how anyone would be able to dress themselves in that without getting lost in the mess and tangle of ribbons.

Happy with her design, Masaki hands it over to the seamstress who watches on unruffled and her slack-jawed assistant. She doesn't give them a chance to react as she continues unperturbed. "I want them in black lace and satin, in Rukia's measurement. Put them on my son's tab. He will gladly foot the bill."

"O-Of course, Madame. The fitting is in two days' time."

Masaki nods, "Thank you for your time."

With that, the two women left, eager to get started. Rukia is mortified as she turns to Masaki. Her embarrassment shows in the twin spots of colour on her cheeks.

"Masaki-san? Why would you—"

"Oh Rukia. Trust me. You'll thank me in the future. Lingerie is a woman's weapon in the bedroom. Use it well and I guarantee my son will be putty in your hands. Ichigo— I can't stop my son but I can at least help you exert some form of control and negotiate some freedom from him."

"Now tell me—" Masaki's gaze is warm and motherly as she regards Rukia and gently helps her off the stool — "what has my idiot son done to you?"

.

Rukia is in better spirits and appetite as warm food is served on the table. She eats slowly, nibbling the bread offered in small and measured bites with an occasional sip of the thick soup. The vegetable soup is filling and the hunger pangs abate.

Masaki is seated across the table from her, quiet and pensive as she nurses a cup of warm tea. The Quincy woman- Ichigo's mother has been kind to her. She listened to her, let her relate her story of abduction from the battlefield by Ichigo without interruptions, dried her tears while she cried and vented. Rukia is careful to omit what she was doing prior to her capture, all the parts pertaining to her identity as a seated officer and how she aided her team's escape into the Human World, but Masaki doesn't even seem remotely interested at that.

"Why are you being so nice to me? You're a Quincy. I am a Shinigami. We are enemies."

Masaki sets her cup down on the table. Her voice is hushed and barely audible as she mutters, "Yhwach will have my head for this but there is no reason that Quincy and Shinigamis cannot coexist. I think we need to take a step back to focus on our similarities instead of what makes us different. Did we not all start off with a need and want to protect the innocent?"

Rukia narrows her eyes, suddenly suspicious.

"You seem unnaturally tolerant of Shinigamis, Masaki-san."

" _Oh_ stop being so formal with me! Call me Masaki. I have already decided to adopt you as my thir—" Masaki coughs, clearing her throat loudly before she beams at Rukia with a smile that doesn't quite meet her eyes— "I have decided to take you under my wing."

Rukongai is a good teacher and Rukia learned from an early age to trust her instincts. It has seen her through back alley scuffles and brushes with death one time too many. There is a strange catch in Masaki's voice when she stumbled on her words before she covered it up with a cough. There is something more to what she was trying to say. Rukia knows that there is.

A sigh follows as Masaki continues, her chin propped in her palm, a faraway look in her eyes, "As for my somewhat- shall we say, _unnatural_ view, I- I saved the life of a Shinigami once. And he in turn, saved mine. I wouldn't be here if it weren't because of him. Experience makes even a fool wise, wouldn't you say?"

Silence stretches between them with that strange confession. Rukia chews at her bottom lip. She wants to know more, naturally curious about how the event happened and the consequences of it but holds herself back. She is not brash and far from insensitive. She doesn't want to risk alienating her only ally thus far just to prod for more details. Masaki sounds sad and doesn't seem interested in divulging any more on the matter so she changes the subject.

There is a far more pressing matter that she needs answers to. It has been gnawing at her ever since her confrontation with the trio of Sternritters she crossed paths with at the entrance of Silbern. Seeing the deferential treatment Masaki receives from the two women only deepens her curiosity. There is something about Ichigo and his mother- the Kurosakis. She can't quite put her finger on it but Rukia is sure that it is important.

"Who are you, Masaki? And who is Ichigo? Why is everyone here so… _respectful_ to both of you?"

Masaki doesn't answer immediately. Her hand clenches tight at the cup while the other slides some of her hair behind her ear.

" _Ah._ It's got less to do with who _I_ am and more to do with who I am related to—" Nervousness pits in Rukia's stomach. She has a bad feeling about this, but the words are already tumbling out of Masaki's lips— "There are certain perks that come with being the birth mother of the Crown Prince after all."

The spoon in Rukia's hands clatter noisily into the bowl, sending some of the soup splashing on the table cloth. Her blood turns to ice.

"Oh he didn't tell you?"

Masaki's tone is not without pride, but there is something else behind it. Rukia detects a hint of bitterness behind her words. The strange look that passes through her eyes before she straightens her back and smiles plays on Rukia's mind long after the conversation ends.

"My son is Kurosaki Ichigo, the Crown Prince of the Wandenreich Empire."

.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, there you go! Now everyone is on the same page- well almost everyone. Rukia now knows that she is sleeping in the bed of a crown prince and that is going to change things.
> 
> Song inspo: Closer (Nine Inch Nails), Toxic (Melanie Martinez version)  
> There is an E-rated Spotify playlist for the fic. [**Chained Playlist**](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6Xk12u8Ze2ibtA6NGsnkmo)
> 
> You guys get an early chapter because I am on holiday and a nerd 🤓. Enjoy!


	4. Wicked Games (I)

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.

They return to Ichigo's place after dinner despite Rukia's reluctance. The two women walk side by side, casting long, looming shadows in the hallway lit by torches.

The dress that Rukia has on her is on loan from the dressmaker and still a bit large on her, but it is a much better fit than Ichigo's shirt. It makes her feel a bit more of a person, more in control of herself and the situation than she was before. She grits her teeth and holds her head up high, unwilling to even let Masaki glimpse at her moment of weakness.

Masaki looks at her worryingly. The fur capelet draped across Rukia's shoulder is warm enough to shield her from Silbern's cold for now, but there is still a niggling worry at the back of her mind that a strong gust of wind would send the girl flying.

"You're too thin, Rukia," she grumbles, her hand resting protectively on Rukia's shoulders, "You need to eat more. We need to get you to put on some weight."

After hearing the ordeal that she has been put through, Masaki's maternal instincts flare and she is fully prepared to take up arms on Rukia's behalf. Her idiot son needs to stop being a bully and start taking better care of her. What is the use of claiming her as his own if he wouldn't even step up to the role and provide for her?

She taught him better than that! Rukia needs to be loved and cared for. Better-fitting and warmer clothes against the cold would be a good start but also a bit more weight on her wouldn't hurt.

Masaki adds it to the mental list of things she needs to talk to Ichigo about as they approach the doors to his living quarters. Next to her, she can feel Rukia's discomfort and the heart-breaking way the Shinigami is trying to swallow her fears and appear unfazed. Masaki's heart squeezes painfully, wishing that there was more that she could do for the young woman instead.

Ichigo leaps to his feet as soon as they pass the threshold. He is dressed casually in a loose-fitting shirt and grey lounge pants. He crosses the room to them in three quick strides.

"Took you long enough!" he growls. His first instinct is to reach for Rukia, to reassure himself of her presence and warmth. Masaki may be his mother and trustworthy by all accounts, but Rukia is his and he doesn't like it if she is separated from him for too long.

He is surprised to see Masaki's hand on his shoulder. Her grip is firm and her glare fierce enough to make him flinch. She shields Rukia behind her, keeping her out of Ichigo's reach.

"Rukia," she calls out gently. The smile she flashes at the Shinigami is kind and motherly as she explains, "I need to have a word with my idiot son. Can you go and wait in the bedroom instead?"

Rukia nods. She is careful to keep her expression schooled and neutral as she takes off the fur capelet but Masaki's voice stills her movements.

"Keep it," she tells her, "you will need it tomorrow when you visit me. Ichigo will take you to my apartment before he leaves to attend to his _princely_ duties."

As soon as the door to the bedroom shuts, Masaki focuses the full extent of her wrath on her wayward son. Her displeasure is evident in the glare she directs at him and the fierce scowl on her face, mirroring that of Ichigo's.

"Ichigo," she says sternly, her hands at her waist, "you have some explaining to do."

.

Ichigo's bedroom doesn't boast much of furniture- at least nothing that she can see herself using to barricade the doors. The mahogany armoire looks heavy and sturdy by the wall while the gilded full-length mirror is mounted on the wall. The two night stands on the other hand are much too light to make any difference. The bed is naturally king-size and dominates the room. Rukia doesn't even waste her time on it. It is much too big for her to move by herself.

She flops onto the bed with a loud sigh, glaring at the pale grey walls. The mattress is springy and comfortable, and covered by bed sheets that feel silky soft against bare skin. Pale moonlight streams from the window, shining down on her as she sits at the foot of the bed, quiet and sullen. The absence of Shirayuki cuts her deep and she curls into a ball, hugging her knees.

She can hear bits of the conversation outside even if she couldn't make out the words fully. Masaki's voice seems to ring with righteous fury, growing louder and stronger with every passing moment while Ichigo's gradually quietens and his replies become monosyllabic. Rukia tries to follow the conversation but ultimately gives up. Her mind is too fuzzy, still whirling from the implications as she is left to her own devices inside the room.

She doesn't know what to do with this new information: Ichigo is the Crown Prince of the Wandenreich Empire and she has been captured by him. She feels powerless. Never in her wildest dream has she ever imagined herself landing in such a predicament- a captured Shinigami, brought to the stronghold of the Quincy Empire to be their crown prince's _pet_. It can't get any worse than this, she thinks. She wonders if Ukitake and the others made it through the senkaimon safely, hoping against all odds, that everyone made it through safely and that her sacrifice hasn't been meaningless.

Outside, the conversation seems to draw to a close with the sound of a door slamming shut. Masaki must have left. Rukia's body thrums with nervousness. She hears the sound of approaching footsteps and adrenaline surges through her veins. Her fight or flight responses are triggered, her hand itching for the reassuring weight of her missing zanpakutou now more than ever.

Violet eyes whip to the door as it swings open.

Behind it, Ichigo emerges. His eyes find hers unaided in the dark and the weight of his stare on her is heavy enough to make her gulp. He keeps his eyes on her as he shuts the door behind him. The tension in the air is thick and heady now that it's just the two of them alone in his bedroom- him standing by the entrance of the bedroom and her on the giant bed.

Rukia fists at the ends of her borrowed dress. Her heart hammers. Her body and mind wouldn't let her forget about what transpired between them earlier. She remembers the coil of Ichigo's body against hers as he keeps her pinned under him. If she closes her eyes, she can feel the phantom weight of his fingers pressing down on her skin, the way his hands caress and brush at her naked body indolently, the warmth of his breath fanning her cheeks as he whispers those _obscene_ words into her ears. All of the memories come flooding back to her at the worst timing possible, making her body squirm with heat and unease.

Ichigo takes his first step, making his way towards the bed. Rukia sits up a little straighter at his approach. With the faint light, she can just barely make out the outline of the object that he keeps behind him, shielded from view. But Shirayuki is more than just a sword or a weapon; it is a part of her- the truest reflection of her soul. She doesn't need sight or touch to tell her that it's her zanpakutou that Ichigo is holding behind him. Shirayuki calls to her. She would recognize it by the pull of her soul and instincts alone.

Rukia nearly trips over her own feet in her haste. She snatches it away from Ichigo's hands with a fierce snarl, gripping the hilt of the blade tightly and cradling it close to her chest. The sight of Shirayuki fills her heart with warmth and hope. The relief she feels flooding her lungs as she wraps both hands around the hilt fully is indescribable. Rukia keeps her eyes and sword pointed at Ichigo- watching him, watching her. She readies herself into a battle stance, poised to attack at the slightest hint of provocation. Shirayuki's ire and resentment at being separated from her fuels her indignation. He would take Shirayuki away from her again over her cold, dead body!

"Relax," he coaxes at her, wryly grinning at the way she hugs the sword to her chest. She really is too cute for her own good, staunchly defending her zanpakutou when she knows how easy it would be for him to reach out and snatch it away from her again. Not that he would of course, though he does enjoy riling her up if only to feel the weight of her stare on him.

"It's yours. You can keep Shirayuki. I won't take her away from you as long as it stays within the confines of the apartment. You have my word. I can't let you walk around with it outside I'm afraid or the others are going to kick up a fuss and complain about this to the All Father."

Ichigo may have proven his loyalty and strength time and time again, be hailed as the heir apparent to the throne and find the All Father to be of a more indulgent and forgiving disposition than the others, but there are still limits to His benevolence and tolerance. The Crown Prince is still only just a prince- held accountable and kept in check by the hands that laid the crown on him. As Jugram and Lille are particularly fond of reminding him, he is not King… _yet._

"The All Father has given His permission to your presence within Silbern. But you shouldn't let your guard down. Don't trust anyone who comes up to you and stay away from the Sternritters, especially Lille- he's the bald man from earlier. The others aren't stupid or suicidal enough to lay a finger on a Crown Prince's pet. Not openly anyway, but there's still no telling what they might do. "

Rukia furrows her brows, scowling fiercely. Again with the 'pet' nonsense!

"I am not a pet! I am a Shinigami. I am a person and I have a name! And why are you being so nice to me? Is this some sort of trick?"

She is naturally wary. The last time she believed him, he played her like a fool. He kidnapped her and took Shirayuki away. She is adamant not to fall for the same trick again.

Ichigo sighs, inching his way towards her, uncaring of the press of the sword against his skin. Rukia scowls, but she has no choice but to retreat at his approach. She doesn't really want to kill him. His death would further complicate her situation and she is still very much in favour of staying alive. She intends to honour her promise to Ukitake and make it out alive to regroup with Nii-sama and the others.

The back of her calves hits the mattress and Rukia realizes belatedly that he is herding her towards the bed. She grips her sword tight. Ichigo is devious. Give him an inch and he will take a mile and then some, just because he can. She must never forget that.

The tip of Shirayuki bites into Ichigo's clothes, cutting through the material and blood blossoms, readily staining the white. Rukia stiffens. Her eyes are sharp and focused, waiting for Ichigo to hit back at her in response to the quick draw of blood. But he doesn't. He shrugs off the attack, treating the cut like a pin prick and closes in on her.

He huddles close, tackling her on to the bed and keeping her caged. He grips at her sword arm and pins the wrist above her head. The spill of moonlight from overhead illuminates her and her delicate features. Ignoring her glare, he uses his other hand to tuck her stray bang behind her ear, tracing at the softness of her apple cheeks, the curve of her red lips with his finger while he hovers on top of her, planting his knees firmly on the side of her hips.

His gaze and touch lowers, breathing out hot air over her skin as he stares transfixed at the sharpness of the jut of her collarbones, paying rapt attention to the rise and fall of her chest, savouring the warmth of her body underneath him. He nuzzles his face into the crook of her shoulders, resisting the urge to mark her throat as he inhales her scent greedily. She is intoxicating and his tongue darts out to lick at the jaunty pulse by the side of her neck. Everything about her is mesmerizing to him. The moonlight makes her already pale skin glow in the dark and her eyes- her eyes are pools of ice and cobalt blue that he will gladly drown in. He craves her attention and wants to be nothing more than the centre of her world.

"Look at me," he husks, lightly kissing the underside of her jaw. Her violet eyes snap to his and he growls approvingly. In her eyes, he sees only himself reflected. Good, he thinks. She should only ever have her eyes on him. There is no one else that she should be looking at or focused on when he is near. Blood rushes through his veins, pooling low into his groin. He wants to bury himself deep inside of her, to meld himself to her until he is a part of her, his essence seared into the very fibre of her being.

There is nothing in this world- no force powerful enough to keep him away from Rukia now that he has found her. He will cut down anyone who dares to come in between them and he will gladly gouge out the eyes of anyone who stares too long at her.

His love is a dark and twisted thing- possessive, marked by the trail of kisses stolen in the dark, harsh, noisy breathing as fingers rake and claw at his back, rings of dark-blue bite marks, bruises in the shape of his hand left in the morning light, but it doesn't mean that he is anything less than devoted to her pleasure and care. Rukia is so small and needy underneath him.

He will protect her and tend to her every whim until she realizes that he is the only one she will ever need.

.

"What I did was unnecessarily cruel and I apologize for not realizing it earlier, for not realizing how painful it would be for you to be separated from Shirayuki. It's… _different_ for me. You must have been so scared. Also, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised by this but my mother is very taken with you. She told me that she is ashamed at the prospect of raising a brute and is apparently one step away from disowning me unless I step up and do better."

The smirk that he flashes at that is a little wistful. "I want you to trust me, Rukia. I also don't want to lose the only parent I have left, so I promise. I won't do anything that you don't want me to. I want you to be happy here."

Rukia stares a little incredulously, trying to even her breathing, to show that she is unaffected by their proximity. "And just like that you're going to let me keep Shirayuki? Aren't you afraid that I'll kill you in your sleep? I might just slit your throat in the middle of the night."

Ichigo scoffs. "You can try. I guarantee you won't make it far though. Even with the All Father's explicit permission, the Sternritters still aren't happy with your existence here. They won't hesitate to attack. Death would be a dream compared to the tortures they can come up with. Think it through very carefully."

"Hey!"

Rukia squirms and yelps loudly when he snakes his arms around her. The sudden movement takes her by surprise as he rolls on to his side, taking her with him. He spoons her from behind, tucking himself around her and presses a kiss to the back of her neck. Rukia stiffens at the strange sense of déjà vu.

How is it that merely hours later, they are back in the same position that she woke up in?

She should have known better, she thinks. She holds on to Shirayuki, rolling her eyes as she chides, "You're unbelievable! What happened to stepping up and doing better? Masaki—"

"I know what my mother said. I was there, you know," he says dryly, "But I also have a very _dangerous_ Shinigami, sharing my living space with me."

He gives a wry grin, tightening his hold on her— "I have to make sure she doesn't try anything dangerous like slit my throat during the night. I'm sure that Mom will understand. She wouldn't want any harm to come to her only son after all."

Rukia's face colours. How dare he use her words against her like this!

"Why you—"

Ichigo chuckles, his face dipping low to muffle her protests with a kiss.

"I won't apologize for what I did. I won't make you a hypocrite by making it seem as though the attraction between us is all one-sided from me. Face it, Rukia. You and I? We're connected to each other. You can deny it all you want but _you_ want me. You are mine! The sooner you accept that, the better it'll be for all of us."

A dark look passes in his eyes but he tampers down the urge to do more to her. Patience and control— he reminds himself. He needs them in spades. He gently pries the blade away from her hands and places it by the night stand on her side.

"There!" he says, "Sleep now. I promise you it'll still be there in the morning when you wake up."

He hugs her tight, sneaking in another kiss before tucking her head under his chin. She is nestled a little too comfortably against his warm skin. His body heat making her eyelids droop despite her best efforts. Cradled so tightly to him, Rukia hears his heart beating loudly and finds herself easily lulled to sleep by it. She does her best to stay awake, stifling yawns with the back of her palm.

"What if I feel safer sleeping with Shirayuki under my pillow?" she challenges.

Ichigo's response to that is a derisive snort. Her obliviousness that she is in bed and tucked in the arms of one of the deadliest creature to ever roam Silbern is _adorable._

"You're sleeping with me, Rukia. Trust me, you're safe."

"What if—"

He hushes her with a light nip at the side of her neck, telling her somewhat gruffly, "no more questions and no more 'what-if's. Nothing will happen to you. I'll kill the bastard who so much as looks at you. Now sleep!"

Ichigo knows himself and his flaws well. He is a weapon, his edges are too sharp and wicked to be handled by anyone and he won't stop attacking once he has been unsheathed. The list of people he cherishes to rein in on his more destructive rampages is woefully short. Rukia is his- his to hold and his to protect. Pity the fool who dares to try him or test the limits of his control.

There won't be enough body parts left behind to identify it by or give it a proper burial by the time he is done with it.

.

It is much too cold to be asleep.

Violet eyes snap open. She finds herself standing in the middle of a winter wonderland. This world is blanketed in thick, fluffy snow that muffles her footsteps. Snowflakes kiss at her face and cover her hair, making her shiver at the chill as they fall. A quiet sense of tranquillity settles within her.

She is in her inner world but there is something different about it. The air feels different, warmer somehow and the skies are paler, woven with wispy clouds of dusky pink and indigo blue. Maybe if she finds Shirayuki the zanpakutou spirit would be able to shed more light on the recent changes in her inner world.

Fairy lights- effervescent and glowing guide her way. They light the path to the small and humble cottage that Shirayuki keeps nestled deep in the evergreen forest. The smell of pine- fresh, sharp and sweet, is always a sign that she is getting closer to her destination.

Shirayuki is expecting her. When she pushes the cottage doors open, she expects to see the yuki-onna sitting primly on the tatami mat. The low table should be set for two. A warm cup of tea with steam rising being set aside for her as Rukia dusts off the excess snow that manages to accumulate on her during the short journey.

Rukia stops dead in her tracks. The clean smell of pine is still coming on strong and refreshing but the cottage that was Shirayuki's humble abode is nowhere to be found. There is instead a gleaming glacial palace that seems to be carved entirely out of ice. It is a fortress that belongs to days of feudal old- traditional in the arch of the sloping roofs and intricate gables, majestic with towers that soar so high they seem to touch the sky and reflective curved walls surround the complex, easily towering over the pine trees nearby. The main keep is five-tiered and gleams with a distinctive hue of white to it even from afar. The gates that guard the entrance to the palace loom impressively and they creak open with a loud groan when she steps closer to investigate.

Rukia feels the pull of Shirayuki. Her presence pulses inside the palace and so she wanders in deeper. She passes through a courtyard on her way in and in it; there are signs of life thriving, vibrant in the bloom of the evergreen trees and perhaps stranger still, flowers- snowdrops blooming in clutches of wet earth left uncovered by the snow. She has never seen them before. She wants to creep in for a closer look but her meeting with Shirayuki takes precedence.

Tearing her eyes reluctantly from the white flowers, she passes through yet another gate, a red wooden bridge built over a running stream before she finally sets foot inside the main keep. Inside, the hallways are well-lit with rows of torches, cold marble slabs lined with the warm red carpet that rolls underneath her feet, muffling her footsteps.

It is a throne room she finds herself in at the end of her journey through the maze of passageways, with walls decorated by hanging tapestries woven of silk and gold. They tell the story of her, she realizes, told in chronological sequence with lifelike etchings and colourful embroideries so delicate and intricate that they would put even the most priceless of Kuchiki heirlooms to shame.

Rukia recognizes the scenes depicted, brushing a finger against the colourful threads as she is brought back to her earlier days of running in the backwater town of Inuzuri, of the ragtag group of friends she keeps- her finger traces the outline of a red-haired child. Renji, she thinks, remembering fondly of their escapades and adventures in outsmarting street vendors and cruel men who wear sneers for smiles. It continues in that sequence- chronicling her days in the Academy, being accepted by Nii-sama into the Kuchiki clan, her growing apart from Renji as he moves onto greener pastures- there is a tear that runs along the seam there and Rukia tries not to let her sadness show- and she eventually finds her niche in the company of the Thirteenth Division. She finds herself surrounded by Kiyone, Sentarou, Ukitake-Taichou and Kaien-dono, and she is reminded of much happier times.

She stops in front of one tapestry in particular. It is the only one that is still unfinished. In it, she sees herself going toe-to-toe with Ichigo. Shirayuki's white clashing with his black katana, shadow chains binding her to him and then, them- naked and wet in a bath tub. She can feel her cheeks burning the longer that she stares, but the weaver does much justice to the sharp lines of Ichigo's face and—

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Rukia jumps at the sudden interruption. It's Shirayuki of course, she realizes –who else could it be in her inner world?— but as she turns to face her zanpakutou spirit, she finds herself rendered speechless and her eyes widen.

It is not a tatami mat that Shirayuki is seated on. In its place, there is a throne- plush and velvety. A curious crown- a diadem of blooming flowers made of ice crystals is perched upon her head. It gleams in the low light and Rukia fights the urge to kneel the closer she gets. Her zanpakutou spirit has always been a woman of peerless beauty- cold and haunting but right now it seems that she has finally lived up to her name.

She is a snow queen, crowned and made to be worshipped and adored by the masses. It is her birth right and Shirayuki wears her crown well. She commands respect and at Rukia's approach, she rises.

"Rukia," she greets. She stands tall and proud, queenly in her manners and regal in the way she carries herself. She belongs in this throne room, born to be Queen. Her lavender-hued eyes are bright and beautiful and she seems to be glowing faintly. The ends of her furisode billow softly as she makes her way down from her throne.

"What's going on?" asks Rukia. The changes in her inner world are much too drastic and too well-timed to be a coincidence. She needs to know how it happened.

Shirayuki gives a sheepish smile at her wielder, her eyes sweeping at the grandeur of the palace as she begins, "When that man touched the blade- I can't explain it but something happened. The landscape began to change. I thought- I thought you wouldn't make it. But then I woke up to find this—" The yuki-onna presses a hand to the wreath of ice flowers— "on my head. I have a crown and the cottage became a palace."

.

The torrent of blizzard and snowstorms that assailed the inner world lasted for what seemed like an eternity and an age. Avalanches- snowballs the size of a house steamrolled the cottage, destroying all that she once knew, while earthquakes rumbled threateningly, tilting the world on its axis with every heave of the shaky earth.

But Shirayuki lived through it. She survived the ordeal. She held onto hope and clung onto the rocky edges of the mountain face until her fingers bled. She didn't let go until the world stilled. And at the end of it, the flat earth gave way to the rise of jagged mountains and low-lying valleys. She earned her icy crown- for surviving the tumultuous heave, and the castle is her keep. She for one, did not take kindly to Zangetsu's arrival.

The stranger who invaded her world came to her with a smile on his lips, wearing a tattered cloak and leather armour that has seen better days. The gleam in his mismatched eyes- one blue and the other, golden yellow was mad and dangerous; the maniacal grin that stretches across his face from ear to ear had her reaching for her blade the second he appeared, wary that he was going to steal it all away from her. But he has power. Every step he took towards her radiated it and it felt intoxicating to her senses. She readied her blade, ready to defend her crown and castle, but to her surprise, the cackling man bent his knee to her.

He called her Queen, pressing his lips to the back of her palm to swear fealty and honour, and the world- the new world order fell into place. Life, she realizes. For a man who seems shrouded in the stench and gloom of death, the stranger instead brought with him the promise of spring. He promised to come later, to tell her more in the future. Shirayuki doesn't know what he and his master's plans are but she needs her mistress to be on the same page as her.

"That man- Ichigo has a zanpakutou, Rukia. His name is Zangetsu and he- he made me his queen."

.

.

By the time Rukia opens her eyes again, it is the dawn of the next morning that she sees. She is used to getting up early for her daily Shinigami training, but Ichigo keeps an even earlier schedule. His side of the bed is empty. She shivers, drawing the covers up to her chin. When she turns, Shirayuki is exactly where it was left from last night, perched on the night stand.

Ichigo, it seems, has kept his word.

She shuts her eyes, reminiscing about the strange and beautiful things she has seen in her inner world. There is a palace made of ice and a crown for Shirayuki, a throne room fit for a queen and rich tapestries woven to tell her story. He made flowers grow in her barren world of ice and snow. Shirayuki is adamant that there is more to Ichigo- more to him and his strange zanpakutou that meets the eye. He is powerful and if he can be persuaded to side with the Shinigamis instead, the tides could turn. The outcome to this thousand year blood war could end up being dramatically different.

It is with that thought that Rukia reluctantly rouses herself, picking herself up from the comforts of the bed. The floorboards are cold under her feet and she grimaces, keeping the blanket wrapped around her body tighter as she makes her way to the kitchen.

The door swings open at the slightest push from her. Ichigo is already there- seated and waiting for her in the kitchen. He greets her with a slight twitch of his lips. His morning gruffness shows in his husky voice and the faint trail of stubble. The clothes he has on are the same he slept in. Rukia can still see speckles of dried blood on them from the cut she made yesterday.

He gestures to the table laden with food and tells her to eat. She eyes it with much suspicion, part of her trepidation stemming from her inexperience and unfamiliarity with Western cuisine. It smells amazing of course. Eggs are always good. There is still a delicious smell of smoked meat lingering in the air from the wafer-thin strips of fatty pork. Sentarou called it bacon, raving about how delicious and crispy they are, showing them pictures after he returned from his exchange in Reverse London. It prompted a scolding from Kiyone about his lack of foresight as he could have brought some back for their captain instead if he were truly as devoted to Ukitake as he said he was. Silly banter ensued only to be broken up by the timely intervention of said Captain.

The distant memory sobers her, suddenly reminded yet again of her loss and absence of her companions. She pushes her plate back, having already lost some of her appetite. Ichigo seems to notice her silence and prods her gently.

"What's the matter?" he asks, looking up from his own plate, "is there anything that you don't like on your plate? I can make you something else? Would you like an omelette instead?"

He gets up, pushing his chair back noisily and Rukia's hand shoots out to stop him.

"I-It's fine. I'm just not familiar with your food. I don't think I've tried any of them before, well aside from the eggs, of course," she explains, "b-but they look delicious. T-Thank you for making breakfast!"

"Ah, it's no problem at all. It makes me happy to see you fed."

He takes the time to introduce to her the different pieces of food on her plate- the sausages, the bacon rashers, the sautéed mushrooms and grilled tomatoes. He watches as she cuts up her food into smaller pieces and smiles at the way her eyes seem to sparkle and glimmer at the taste and burst of new flavours in her mouth.

"It's delicious," she tells him quietly when she finishes sampling all of them. Ichigo remembers how little she weighed in his arms and the way her skin stretches over her ribcage, her ribs showing and clearly visible. He frowns at the thought and plies more strips of bacon from his plate onto hers instead. Give him time and he will introduce more variations of flavours- spices and herbs from all corners of the world to her and broaden her limited palate. He wants to see her well-fed and healthy.

"You need a bit more weight on you. You're too thin. Eat up!"

Rukia is about to protest about it being too much for her but swallows her words at the sharp look Ichigo sends her and nods instead. She picks up her new cutleries and chews at her food slowly. She is appalled at the idea of all this food going to waste. Want not, waste not! As a street orphan, she used to dig through scrap heaps to hunt for edible food and she remembers the cold gnawing feel of hunger well. Even now, after so many years of living as a Kuchiki instead, old habits die hard.

"I can try to make you traditional Japanese breakfast next time. But I don't think I'll be very good at it. Mom might know. She used to live in Japan. Or maybe you can show me? What do you normally have for breakfast?"

The conversation about food flows naturally between them and Rukia goes into much detail about a childhood she remembers of cooking freshly-caught fishes over camp fire, a childhood spent foraging for fruits and berries in the wild and sleeping under the stars during hot summer nights. She doesn't tell him about the sleepless nights when she goes to bed hungry and cold, about the hot summer days when she would contemplate murder just to have a sip of cool water, about how when she becomes a Shinigami there are nights when she would be so busy with paperwork that she sometimes forgets to eat. Food is wonderful and breakfast is undeniably the most important meal of the day, but she can't think of the last time someone made her breakfast willingly.

When every last morsel of her plate has been licked clean, Ichigo clears the table and gathers up their dirty dishes for washing. Rukia insists on helping and he easily steps aside, offering her space to stand by his left.

They stand side by side at the sink in silence. Ichigo is elbow-deep in soap suds, sponging at the dishes and pans before handing them over to Rukia to be rinsed and dried. They make a good team and the washing up was done before they knew it.

"I'll take you to Mom later. While you're out, people are going to come over to fix up a new wardrobe for you to put your clothes in. Shirayuki will get her own stand. Does that sound good to you?"

Rukia gives a slight nod. She is looking forward to her meeting with Masaki again if nothing else. She also remembers Shirayuki's advice and takes it to heart. She needs to befriend Ichigo. She needs him to be on her side.

"That sounds nice."

.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, hear me out- Rukia is 144cm and 33kg. That’s a BMI of 15.9. She’s underweight y’all. That’s why Masaki and Ichigo are very adamant that she needs to eat more. Not to mention, I headcanon due to her earlier days as an orphan and growing up on the streets, she has a difficult relationship with food. 
> 
> There’s a very interesting **headcanon** that rukia-kuchiki-divided posted. 
> 
> So like Rukia might unintentionally starve herself because she’s used to going hungry for long periods of time or just flat out not eating at times because she doesn’t want her to be ‘dependent’ on it or worse use starvation to punish herself. T.T
> 
> Ichigo! Fix this!
> 
> Song inspo: Wicked Games (The Weeknd)  
> There is an E-rated Spotify playlist for it. **Chained Playlist**


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